Professor Lupin's Apprentice
by DovieLR
Summary: Completed novel fanfic: Professor Lupin happens upon a supposed Muggle who has some intriguing interests and powers, only to find out she may not be such a Muggle after all. Snape features prominently; Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Sirius Black also appear.
1. A Shabby, But Interesting, Man

This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. After reading the third book, I was intrigued with Professor Lupin, and I thought he deserved further literary treatment. Due to the way my mind works, there are probably **SPOILERS for ALL THE BOOKS** spread throughout, so **consider yourself warned!!!** I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**I: A Shabby, But Interesting, Man**

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Most of my visits to the public library in my small town in rural Scotland were uneventful. I never thought my countless hours of researching the history and theory of magic and Wicca, the modern Pagan arts, would ever lead me to the man I was destined to marry. But one day—whilst looking into a particularly complicated Beltane ritual—I noticed a man staring impertinently over my shoulder.

He was tall and mildly handsome, with greying light brown hair, a curious, intelligent expression, and a warm smile. The first words he said to me were enough to put off anyone with a keen interest in magic, but something about the kind way he said them didn't put me off in the least. When I noticed a presence behind me, I marked my place and turned in my chair.

He smiled. "That won't work, you know?" he said, in a soothing, although hoarse, voice, with a slightly amused expression.

"What won't work?" I asked, puzzled.

"That ritual," he said, pointing over my shoulder at the page of the book propped open in front of me. "It's completely wrong for what you are trying to accomplish." As he drew his hand away from the page, lightly brushing my shoulder, a pleasant shiver ran through me.

"How do you know what I wish to accomplish?" I asked.

"Well, for one thing, it's written there in your notes. You're looking for a spell to bring true love."

I felt a rush of blood into my cheeks, and I knew I must have been blushing brightly. But I made no reply, turning back to the book.

"That's a fertility ritual," he continued, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "And it's entirely too complicated."

I faced him again, wearing what I'm sure was an indignant glare. My hands went instinctively to my hips, and I snorted with contempt. "You've only just met me, and you presume to tell me what lies outside the range of my abilities?"

"Not at all, my dear lady," he replied with a disarming smile. "It was merely a comment on the unnecessary complexity of the spell. Mug— People's attempts at spells are often inordinately more complicated than they need be. The best charms are much simpler, usually only one or two words. This belaboured rhyming paragraph is showy for the sake of it."

"How do you know?" I asked insolently.

"Well, I've spent a few years studying magic myself," he said, pulling up and straddling a chair casually. "I even taught certain aspects of magic for two terms."

"Really?" I asked, wide-eyed, with a hint of sarcasm in my voice. "Where?"

"I doubt you would have heard of the establishment," he said, looking down at his arms crossed over the back of the chair.

I'd never met anyone who claimed to do magic professionally, much less teach magic. Judging from the state of his clothes, however, which were much worn, he must not have been very good at his job. When he looked up again, he followed my incredulous gaze as I took in his attire.

"Clothes don't make the man," he said simply.

"Oh, but they do," I countered. "Naked people have little or no influence on society."

"Pardon?" he asked, cocking his head to the side with an addled expression that I found adorable.

"Mark Twain," I said. When he still looked confused, I added, "That is a fairly well-known quote."

"Oh, is it?" He shrugged. "I fear I am not too familiar with Mr Twain."

"Have you been living in a cave all your life?" I asked in disbelief.

He rubbed his chin, then nodded. "You could say that."

I stared at this extraordinary man in awe, when he did something I never expected.

"Would you care to have dinner with me some time?" he asked.

My eyes went wide again. "You must be joking!"

"I am completely serious," he replied with a shake of his head.

"I fear that is quite impossible," I said, turning back to my pile of books. "I do not dine with men I've only just met in libraries. Especially ones who are so condescending about my hobbies."

"Was I condescending?" he asked in a completely innocent tone. "That was not my aim."

I was determined not to be swayed by his sincere inflection, or his calming voice. Flipping a few pages, I repositioned my notepad and drew my ink pen back into my hand, intent on taking notes and ignoring him. But, out of the corner of my eye, I could see he'd made no move to leave. When I glanced back in his direction, he wore the same adorably bemused expression whilst he peered at my pen.

"Why are you staring at my pen?" I asked.

"I was just wondering how that thing works," he said, distractedly. "You don't seem to have an inkwell..." His voice trailed off; apparently he was aware he had just said something extremely foolish.

"You have been living in a cave, haven't you?" I unscrewed the pen and pulled out the inner workings, showing him the plastic tube that housed the ink. "The inkwell is inside."

His eyes grew wide. "Ohhhhh! I see!"

I shushed him, as a mother would, and apologised almost immediately. "This is a library," I added, flushing again.

"No, no, you're quite right," he said in a hoarse whisper, with a wave of his hand. Then he smiled. "Are you sure you won't have dinner with me? We could talk about magic..." He looked around at the staff clearing up for the night. "This facility appears to be closing."

"I'm afraid that is quite impossible," I said curtly, packing my books away. He looked wounded, so I added, more gently, "If I knew you better, perhaps, but no. I'm sorry."

"I understand," he said, the corners of his mouth turning down and his brows knitting into an even more adorable frown. "Might I at least have your name?"

"Melinda Rhoades," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

He stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Miss Rhoades."

I reached out to shake his hand, but he seized my hand, kissing the back lightly. I blushed a third time, with a small gasp, as he turned to leave.

"Wait!" I said, as the three nearest librarians shushed me. I mouthed "Sorry," to the closest staff member as he turned back to face me. "What's your name?" I whispered.

"Lupin," he said with a smile. "Remus J. Lupin." Then he bowed slightly and disappeared out the door.

I walked home to my boarding house in a daze, repeating his name to myself. That was an odd name, to be sure, but it seemed fitting for such an odd man. "Odd," I whispered, "but definitely handsome."

I climbed the steps to my room when the clouds shifted, bathing the landing in bright, silvery light. As I looked out the window, I noticed the moon was full. And then I heard the howl of a wolf somewhere in the night. The sound was fairly loud, so it must be nearby.

"A wolf," I whispered, shaking my head and turning the key in the lock. "That's only a dog. It's that man's name, Lupin, that made me think of a wolf. It's so close to _lupus_."

The next time I visited the library, four nights later, Mr Lupin was there again. He sat at the same table I had previously occupied, as if waiting for me, and looked up, smiling. I approached the table apprehensively. Had he been following me? How did he know I would be there that night? Or had he come back every night since?

"Good evening, Miss Rhoades," he said pleasantly, standing.

"Good evening, Mr Lupin," I said, setting down my bag, but making no pretence of sitting. "Have you been coming back every night, looking for me?"

Appearing suddenly uncomfortable, he cleared his throat. "Well ... yes, actually ... I have."

"We have a term for that," I said, tersely, folding my arms across my chest. "It's called stalking, and it is against the law."

"Really? I didn't know that..." He studied the table, toying with a minuscule scratch in the varnish. "I never thought coming to a public place in the hopes of getting to know a beautiful woman better—so she wouldn't be afraid of me and might possibly eventually have dinner with me—would be considered a hostile gesture. I'm very sorry to have bothered you." He turned and started to walk away, but I caught his arm.

"Perhaps I was a bit hasty," I said. "I ... I'll admit I'm not accustomed to such attentions from the opposite sex. And you're right. It's not as if this is a back alley in London..."

He smiled and shook his head. "No, it isn't."

"Please sit," I added, waving him into a chair. Instead of sitting, however, he pulled out a chair for me. I thanked him, and he joined me as I unpacked my bag.

He rested an elbow on the table, putting his chin in his hand. "So, magic is your hobby?"

"Yes. I've been interested in magic, and almost anything supernatural, for as long as I can remember." He smiled, bordering on condescension again, like a parent would smile and pat his child's head, but I continued, regardless. "Ancient Druids, modern Wicca, divination, Tarot cards, the occult arts, the Salem Witch Trials, banshees, ghosts, vampires, werewolves..."

Mr Lupin's expression changed when I reached "the occult," and he was frowning by the time I said "vampires." When I uttered the word "werewolves," he positively winced.

"What's the matter?" I asked, naïvely.

His nose crinkled with distaste. "You find that sort of stuff interesting?"

"Well, yes ... I think the legends are fascinating."

"Legends," he repeated, rolling his eyes. "No wonder you're intrigued."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, to someone who has never encountered the Dark Arts, I suppose they might be fascinating."

"What? You mean you have?"

"In a manner of speaking. That's what I taught: Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Wow!" I was shushed again by the staff. "Really? That's what you taught? Then you must know all about this stuff!"

"I think it's safe to say I know more than my fair share."

"Have you ever run into a banshee, or a vampire, or a werewolf?"

"More or less," he said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Let's talk about something else."

From the way he acted, I suddenly wondered if Mr Lupin had been fired from his Defence Against the Dark Arts position. For whatever reason, the occult was a sore subject, so I went along with changing the direction of the conversation.

"All right. What would you like to talk about?"

He smirked with a twinkle in his eyes. "Well, we could start with that true love spell."

Now I was uncomfortable and stared down at my notes.

"I can save you a lot of trouble," he said soothingly. "Such a spell doesn't exist."

"It doesn't?"

"No. There are many potions that will make a man think he's in love with you long enough to make it to the altar, but love cannot be conjured. It comes from within."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you."

I sighed. "That's what I was afraid of."

"Afraid? Why? Is there some particular man you wanted to bewitch?"

"No, not a particular man..."

"You know, I don't think I get you at all. Here you are, poring over books to try to find a man when there is one sitting right next to you who would like nothing better than to take you to dinner."

I huffed with my mouth hanging open.

"Oops," he said, sitting back. "I've offended you again."

Nodding, I said, "Slightly."

"Please accept my most humble apologies." I smiled in spite of myself, and Mr Lupin grinned back at me. "Well," he said, "I can get you some recipes for love potions if you want to try them, but I wouldn't recommend that avenue."

I felt more patronising coming on. "Why not?"

"Most of the potions are fairly complex. Many highly trained magical practitioners don't attempt them. One has to be fairly adept at potions. At my last workplace there was this fellow named Snape—perfectly dreadful man, although he was quite a potion-brewer—but Snape wouldn't even attempt some of the better-known love potions. Shame, too," he added with a shrug. "He could use all the help he can get."

I found myself giggling at this. "You shouldn't say things like that."

Mr Lupin chuckled. "You don't know Severus Snape."

"It sounds as though you know some ... interesting people," I said.

"You could say that," he said through a wide grin. "Seriously, though, if you want to try some simpler potions and work up to the more complex ones, I have some books."

"Ah! This is the part where you offer to take me back to your flat and show me your impressive library, isn't it?"

"I'm shocked you would consider me such a villain," he gasped, putting his hand to his chest in mock offence. "Have I giving you cause to think me anything other than a gentleman?"

I shook my head, blushing again.

"I would never attempt to lure you back to my abode in order to take advantage of your position." He bent over in his chair, retrieving a stack of books, which he placed on the table between us. "These are some of my old schoolbooks."

I reached for the top book, intrigued, but Mr Lupin quickly pulled the stack out of my reach.

"First, I must have your solemn oath that you will tell no one about these books in any way. Not the titles, not the contents, not even the authors' names. And especially not where you got them."

"Why?"

"These writings are highly ... classified ... If anyone in my ... line of work ... discovered I'd given them to you, I could be sent to Az— I could be sent to prison."

"Are you serious?" His grave expression told me he was, so I was not the least bit surprised at his answer. 

"Completely," he said with a nod.

I blinked at him a few times, pondering the cause of this furtiveness. "Do you work for the government or something?"

"No," he said with a small smile. "But these books are a great secret, nevertheless. Promise me you won't tell anyone, and I'll let you borrow them."

"If there is such danger involved, why are you doing this?"

His eyes twinkled. "I have always been something of a troublemaker in my circles."

My incredulous look made him smile again. "I don't buy that explanation," I said.

"Well, it is true," he replied. "But I also had an idea that if I did something nice for you, and showed you I am trusting you with something important, you might be persuaded to have dinner with me."

"You can't be doing all this for a date!" I whispered loudly, to a host of angry stares from surrounding librarians.

Mr Lupin put his finger to his smiling lips. "No, actually, I'm not just doing this for a date, but I do sincerely want to get to know you better. I saw something very special in you the other night ... Something I've rarely seen in ... regular people."

"What?" I asked.

He looked directly at me, but no longer appeared to see me. "Incredible concentration. An almost meditative ability to block out extraneous stimuli. I've only seen the like in one other ... person."

"Who?"

"An older gentleman by the name of Albus Dumbledore," he said, smiling when he finally appeared to notice my presence again.

"How do you know I have this incredible concentration?"

He leant closer to me across the table, pointing for emphasis. "Do you know how long I watched your studies the other night?"

I shrugged. "Five or ten minutes?"

Mr Lupin shook his head. "Three hours."

"Three hours?!?"

The librarians all turned and hissed in my direction. "SHHHHHH!!!"

My jaw hung open wide. "You wouldn't joke about something like that, would you?"

"Of course not. I could scarcely believe it myself. My feet were quite worn, and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to speak to you at all before I had to leave."

"Oh? Where did you have to go?"

With a slight cough, he said, "I had an appointment."

"Someone who agreed to have dinner with you?"

"No, but a pressing matter regardless." He patted the books. "So, do I have your word?"

I nodded enthusiastically, and he slid the stack toward me.

"I won't tell anyone," I said, packing the books into my satchel. "I have a large strongbox at home, and I'll lock them away when I'm not using them. I'll even read with the blinds drawn, if that will help you rest easier."

"I knew I could count on you," he said with a satisfied look. "I'll meet you here next week, in case you have any questions. I'm certain you will."

"Thank you, Mr Lupin," I said, extending my hand, which he kissed again.

"My pleasure, Miss Rhoades. I'll see you in a week."


	2. Biomagical Taxonomy

When we last left our heroine, she'd gratefully received a pile of books on magic from Mr. Lupin, after swearing a solemn oath not to divulge anything about them. The mysterious man promised to return a week later to answer whatever questions she might have thought up during her reading. (This chapter probably makes Professor Lupin seem like the consummate nerd, but I think he's cute when he's enjoying teaching, and I was really having WAY too much fun analyzing magical creatures!) I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**II: Biomagical Taxonomy**

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The next week, as appointed, I arrived at the library at my customary time, amid disdainful glances from the staff. Heretofore I had been a model patron, but now—when in the company of Mr Lupin—I was rapidly on the path to anathema, I was sure. Upon not seeing Mr Lupin, I walked to and sank down at my usual table alone, the librarians watching me suspiciously all the while. I rummaged in my pack for my pen and the pad on which I'd scribbled all manner of questions.

For a full ten minutes, I sat reviewing my three pages of queries before I glanced at my watch and started again. After twenty minutes, I began to nervously tap my pen against the pad, as I kept an eye on the entrance. When I realised I was nervous awaiting Mr Lupin's arrival, I couldn't believe it. Excited, I thought, would only be natural, but I was actually nervous. I shrugged. _Well, why shouldn't I be nervous_? I thought. After all, he was a fairly attractive man. I then reminded myself I wasn't going to have dinner with him.

As a passing librarian tutted my thumping, I dropped my pen and set to the task of reviewing my questions for the third time. The staff breathed a sigh of relief, but their respite was short-lived. Five minutes later, Mr Lupin entered through the main doors. This was, I realised, the first entrance I'd seen him make, although I had seen two exits, but he seemed a completely different person. He strode across the room, quite businesslike, and nodded toward me as he approached my table. When he laid his battered briefcase down, opening the clasps, I was never more convinced he was a teacher—and probably a good one—despite his shabby clothes.

"Good afternoon, Miss Rhoades," he said, sitting. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"Good afternoon, Professor Lupin. And, as we had no prearranged meeting time, there is no need to apologise." I looked up from the papers I shuffled just in time to notice his brow was again furrowed into his adorably perplexed expression. "What is it?" 

"Did you just call me 'Professor Lupin'?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I suppose I did, but I meant no offence."

"No offence taken, I assure you," he said, dismissing the notion with a wave. "You simply surprised me, is all. I haven't been called 'professor' in a while, but I certainly don't mind the address."

"Well, it does seem to suit you," I said.

He smiled. "Thank you. Now, why don't we start on your questions?" He craned his neck slightly toward the papers in front of me. "You appear to have quite a few."

I nodded but didn't look at my notes, studying my teacher instead.

"Have you memorised them?" he asked with just a hint of a smile, although his eyes twinkled impishly.

"Only the first few," I said, folding my hands over my notes. "For starters, why are you doing this?"

His eyebrows rose. "I thought we covered that last week ... Because I noticed in you a special quality of concentration lacking in most others."

"Just seeing if you would stick to that story," I said, nodding again. "Do you often muck about in libraries, staring over people's shoulders?"

Professor Lupin's mock affront from our previous meeting was replaced by genuine offence this time. "Indeed not!" He took a deep breath. "I spotted you, or rather a familiar symbol on the cover of one of your loan books, whilst you were outside. I followed in the hopes of having a look at the book, or asking you about it at least. When I arrived at this table, you were engrossed in reading. I hovered politely for ten minutes before tapping your shoulder, to which I received no response. I began to think you were ill." His eyes went up and to his left; he was obviously trying to remember something. "What is that disorder called?" he asked, distractedly.

"Catalepsy?" I offered.

"Yes, I think that's the one," he answered, frowning slightly in thought. "Anyhow, I was about to ask someone to fetch you a doctor when you turned a page in the book. Needless to say, I was astonished. I tapped your shoulder again, and again there was no response. I came around in front of you, snapping my fingers near your eyes and ears. You never so much as flinched. Finally, I just stood there, resigned to see if you came out of the trance before I had to leave ... for my appointment."

"Didn't the librarians think it odd that you were hovering around me?"

He shook his head slowly. "They didn't seem to."

I had the distinct impression there was something he wasn't telling me, but I decided to let it lie. "What symbol did you see that made you follow me indoors?"

"The crest from Gryffindor House at my school: a red field with a gold rearing lion."

"Oh yes," I said, nodding quickly. "I know which book you mean. I'll see if I can find it later to show you ... And where did you go to school?" I added casually.

He tugged nervously at his collar. "This is starting to sound like an interview for a new position."

"Isn't it?" I asked, shrugging. "You are apparently offering yourself as my magic tutor and, as such, I should know your qualifications before I decide to hire you."

He swallowed, seemingly uncertain. "I'm not sure I should tell you where I went to school. Not just yet. Perhaps we can have a few complimentary sessions before you decide to keep me on? Then you can determine later if my qualifications are necessary."

"Fair enough," I said smiling, after a moment's contemplation, although I had already made up my mind. The books he'd lent me were fascinating—what little I could understand of them, anyhow. He would have to be the worst teacher on earth to bore me with the subject matter. If he were a decent teacher—as I suspected—I would have loads of fun and learn a great deal.

"Any more questions off the cuff?" Professor Lupin asked, steepling his fingers. "Or shall we proceed to those you've written down?"

"Let's move on," I said, looking at the first question. "As I understood it, there was only one type of banshee: the type who wails outside someone's window. But, according to _Death Heralds of Europe_, there is also a banshee who washes bloody bedclothes in rivers or lakes. Are they both banshees and just different types? Like different species or something?"

"Yes and no," he said, leaning back and crossing his arms. "You'll find the latter variety is the same as the first. Banshees wash bedclothes only when they have laryngitis. They aren't allowed sick leave, you see, so they must keep heralding death, whether or not they feel up to wailing. Banshees usually have fairly strong constitutions, however, and even stronger vocal cords, so the washing-type banshee is rarely seen."

I thought for a moment he was having me on. When he didn't break into a smile or chuckle, I asked, "Are you serious?"

He nodded. "Yes. That's the absolute truth." He then cleared his throat and tugged at his collar again. "As far as the folklore has shown, at any rate."

"Well ... if they can get laryngitis," I continued hesitantly, "then they aren't ghosts?"

"No, no, banshees aren't ghosts," he replied, leaning forward in his chair with a dismissive wave. "They may occasionally look transparent because they can phase in and out, but they are as tangible as you or I. Banshees are part of a class of corporeal magical creatures known as demi-humans, not to be confused with semi-humans, which are your fauns, satyrs, centaurs, minotaurs, and the like. Incubi and succubi—although they have goat feet—are usually lumped in with demi-humans because of their evil nature.

"You'll find most demi-humans are evil, or at least foreboding, although I've always thought incubi and succubi should be considered semi-humans, despite that. They are clearly human-like and goat-like. And satyrs and minotaurs are not exactly nice, friendly creatures, either. Centaurs are also included in the semi-equine category, and minotaurs are also included in the semi-bovine category, so I think incubi and succubi should be in the semi-human and semi-caprine categories, just like fauns and satyrs. Does that make any sense?"

I nodded numbly, my jaw hanging open. Professor Lupin rattled all this off matter-of-factly, as if he were a biology professor illustrating taxonomy. Of course, this was a form of taxonomy, I suppose—biomagical taxonomy.

"So, all of these semi-humans," I said at last, "belong in another semi- category as well?"

"Well, they'd have to, wouldn't they?" he asked with a shrug. "I mean, 'semi-' means half, so they would have to be half one thing and half another. Like a cockatrice would be semi-dragon and semi-rooster, a griffin would be semi-eagle and semi-lion, and a hippogriff would be semi-eagle and semi-horse, although some people say a hippogriff is semi-griffin and a semi-horse. The half taken from the griffin is all eagle, though, so I cut out the middleman, if you will.

"Unicorns are the only creatures I know of which defy classification," he added, tapping his upper lip thoughtfully with his forefinger. "A unicorn would traditionally be considered semi-horse, semi-stag, and semi-lion—yes, I know that's three halves," he said, holding up his hand when I opened my mouth to interrupt. "But there isn't a nice prefix for thirds. It's that silly horn which makes unicorns impossible to classify, since no one knows what other creature it comes from. But ... Oh, never mind."

"But what?"

"Well..." He frowned. "Those who claim to have seen a unicorn say, except for the horn, a unicorn is all horse."

"Do you know any of these people personally?"

He flushed and laughed nervously. "No, of course not!"

"So, are vampires and zombies demi-humans, as well?"

"No, they are post-humans. Corporeal post-humans to be exact. Ghosts are incorporeal post-humans. Other corporeal demi-humans include nymphs, leprechauns, goblins, pixies, fairies, and brownies."

"I thought you said demi-humans were evil or foreboding?"

"I said most are. Goblins aren't evil or foreboding, just shrewd, parsimonious, and meticulous. They'd make good bankers and accountants. Most nymphs are innocuous, but water nymphs have a predilection towards drowning people, like Sirens. They don't do so out of maliciousness, you understand; they just think it's fun. Kind of like a very large dog that will accidentally kill something by playing too roughly. Brownies are normally helpful, but there is an occasional bad apple. Despite the popular misconception, leprechauns can be devious and mean-spirited. Fairies and pixies are normally all right, but they have nasty tempers. You don't want to get on a fairy or pixie's bad side."

"Aren't they too small for that to make any difference?" I asked, frowning.

He shook his head. "Not if they decide to cast a spell on you. They pack quite a magical wallop for something so small."

"Are there any incorporeal demi-humans?"

"Oh, yes: wraiths, doppelgängers—or fetches—and poltergeists."

"I thought wraiths and doppelgängers were like banshees, and poltergeists were just ghosts. I mean, doesn't that word come from the German for 'noisy ghost'?"

"It's 'knocking spirit,' I do believe. Wraiths and doppelgängers are like banshees in that they herald death, but unlike banshees, they make themselves up to look like the person whose death they herald. I think you'll find doppelgänger even means 'double' in German."

"Yes, I know," I said, nodding.

His eyebrows rose and he smiled. "Fetches are a special type of doppelgänger who hide in windows and mirrors. They seem to be very shy and don't really care for their job, so they make their marked objects come to them."

"How do they do that?"

One of his eyebrows rose. "Well, do you know of many people who don't look into a mirror at least once a day?"

I nodded. "Good point."

"Wraiths, unlike banshees and doppelgängers—who only show that a death is imminent—are actually evil spirits who attempt to make that death happen. Banshees and doppelgängers take their orders directly from the Angel of Death. Wraiths act independently and randomly, which makes them doubly dangerous.

"I find poltergeists more fascinating, although they usually are not as deadly. The term 'poltergeist' is a misnomer, although it seemed accurate enough, I'm sure, to those who coined the word. A true poltergeist is rare. It's a sort of parasitic evil spirit that feeds off of ghosts. They are often mistaken for ghosts because the kind of energy needed to fuel a poltergeist is leeched from ghosts who met with a particularly violent end. Or—strangely enough—a group of teenagers living under one roof."

"I've read something about that before," I said, too loudly in my excitement of being able to participate in the conversation. "Why do you suppose that is?"

"Well, no one knows for certain, mind you, but I do have a theory."

"What?"

"Anger, basically. If there is one thing a murder victim and a teenager have in common, it's anger. Of course, with a murder, that's obvious, but not so much with teens. Anyhow, when their hormones begin to act up, all of a sudden they think they know everything, and they are constantly fighting with their parents and other authority figures. When teenagers are present in large numbers, I think the poltergeists sense that energy and gravitate toward those households. Naturally, I've wanted to do a study of abused teens, to see if there is a higher incidence of poltergeists among them, but there is difficulty in finding subjects—" He broke off suddenly, finally noticing the growing alarm on my face. "Oh, I'm sorry ... I know sometimes I sound rather coldly scientific."

"Hmmm," I said, cocking an eyebrow.

"That is not to say I don't have the deepest sympathy for children in such situations..."

I nodded, accepting that he had spoken without thinking. "So, poltergeists can move around, can they?"

"Oh, yes. Since they aren't true ghosts, they aren't tied to the scene of their death—because they never died. They just ... are. They are free to go wherever the energy is strongest. I've only heard of one poltergeist who stayed put for any length of time."

"Where?"

"At my old school, as a matter of fact. Not only did he have other ghosts to feed off, but he also had a swarm of teenagers every year. I daresay Peeves was in poltergeist heaven. He's been there for centuries, supposedly."

"Did you ever see or hear him?"

He searched my face for a moment before cautiously saying, "I thought I saw him once."

"What about werebeasts?" I asked.

Professor Lupin's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "What about them?" he asked sharply.

"Are they considered semi-humans?"

His expression softened a bit, and then became sad. "No, they are humans, plain and simple."

"But how? I mean, if they change into wolves or foxes or tigers, I would think they would be semi-humans."

"No, semi-creatures display characteristics of both creatures at once, all the time." He paused and took a deep breath, as if searching for the right words. "Werebeasts ... well, you can think of werebeasts as humans with a dread disease. Like ... Oh, what is that really bad disease no one has found a cure for?"

"AIDS?"

"No, the other one."

"Cancer?"

"Yes, cancer, that's it! There's no cure for lycanthropy, either, although there are some treatments ... or so I've read. Think of a werebeast as someone who is infected with cancer, but who has predictable periods of remission and relapse."

"But what about those people—supposedly witches and warlocks—"

His brow furrowed attractively again, and I tried to keep from smiling, fearing he'd think I found his lack of comprehension amusing.

"A warlock?" he asked.

Now my eyes grew wide. I was certain he would know that. "I thought a warlock was a male witch."

"No, that's a wizard. 'Warlock' is..." He frowned. "Well, quite an old-fashioned term..."

"What about the witches and wizards, then, who claimed to change into werewolves on purpose, then?" I continued, undeterred.

Professor Lupin shook his head sadly. "They were insane or under the influence of hallucinogenic salves—made with ergot, if memory serves. No one would ... want ... to do that to himself or herself, any more than someone would want to get cancer or AIDS." He stared at the table for a moment, looking very forlorn.

"Well, that about covers my first question," I said cheerfully, scratching out number one on my list and hoping the happiness might become contagious. He looked up with a faint smile as I said, "On to question two."

After two more hours of engaging conversation, covering only half of the first page of inquiries, the head librarian informed us we would have to leave. So engrossed were we that we hadn't noticed they were packing things away all around us. Luckily, almost everyone else had gone, and they were no longer shushing us, since there were precious few left in the building whom we could disturb. As we made our way toward the exit, however, Professor Lupin said we should probably consider another meeting place, as he regarded glances of scorn coming from all around us.

"We could also continue this conversation elsewhere, if you aren't too tired." He raised a quelling hand when I started to object. "I'm not saying, 'Your place or mine?' A public place."

"But where can go where no one will listen too intently?"

He shrugged. "I think a pub would fit the bill nicely."

"A pub?" I protested. "In a town like this? Everyone will listen intently!"

"Perhaps so, but at this time of night, they'll most likely be too intoxicated to understand or remember whatever they hear. Besides, I'm famished."

"I'm not having dinner with you," I said flatly.

"Fine. You drink. I'll eat." He offered his arm, which I accepted, leading him down the road to the nearest pub.


	3. The Boar's Head

When we last left our heroine, she and Professor Lupin were leaving the library, heading for the nearest pub. I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**III: The Boar's Head**

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We made our way down the street, the glow from a few streetlights and the waning quarter moon lighting our path. The Boar's Head public house was the nearest to the library, and I quietly steered Professor Lupin toward the establishment. He talked more about the classification of magical creatures as we walked, in hushed tones, because people were still awake in the surrounding houses. It was only a bit after seven, after all, but knowing the Boar's Head's regular customers, his assessment was correct: They would be rapidly on their way to inebriation.

As we entered the pub, most heads turned in our direction. I was reasonably well known there, if not an avid patron, but the customers didn't turn to see me. They were more interested in the man on my arm. I had in my tenure received more than my share of beer-influenced proposals from Boar's Head regulars, and I thought that would no doubt cause some friction for the handsome stranger accompanying me. To my surprise, however, the other patrons gave Professor Lupin a quick once-over and turned hastily back to their mugs. I thought it seemed as if they were afraid of him and then dismissed this as silly. Why would a roomful of strong, stocky Scottish farmers fear a scrawny—by comparison, at least—teacher? I mentally shrugged as we headed toward an isolated booth in one of the corners.

When we sat, Professor Lupin rummaged through pockets, presumably looking for money. I felt suddenly embarrassed for him. Because of his professional manner in the library, I had all but forgotten the state of his clothes and the assured poverty this indicated. His almost futile search ended in locating two one-pound coins and several pence, but no bills. I say almost futile because he fished two large gold coins from one pocket, only to quickly replace them.

"What are those?" I asked.

"That's foreign money," he answered, shoving them back into his pocket. "Won't buy anything here, I'm afraid. I thought I had a five pound note here somewhere..."

He'd laid his left arm on the table as he dug in the right rear pocket of his trousers. When I placed my hand over his, he looked at me suddenly, startled.

"Let this be my treat," I said gently.

"No, I couldn't possibly," he said, pulling his hand away and searching his other rear trouser pocket.

"Please?" My voice sounded more pitiful than I'd intended. I certainly didn't want to hurt his pride any more than it already had been. Thinking quickly, I added, "We can call it a deposit."

He regarded me strangely with one raised eyebrow. "A deposit on what?"

"Why, tutoring, of course!"

He sighed as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. A small smile grew on his lips then finally reached his eyes. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, Professor Lupin."

I suddenly wondered why he'd persisted so in asking me to have dinner with him when he obviously couldn't afford to buy a meal even for himself. In the end, I supposed he was so desirous of my company that the thought of payment had never entered his mind. At first I was flattered. The dim light of the pub then showed me all too clearly what the bright fluorescent lighting of the library failed entirely to reveal: the gaunt face, the sunken eyes, the hopeless expression. It came over me in a flash. I realised Professor Lupin had not eaten all day, probably not for a few days.

I felt the sting of tears brimming in my eyes and tried to repress the sudden rush of emotion. The perfect opportunity presented itself when the barmaid arrived, and I turned toward her, discreetly wiping my eyes. I discovered I was hungrier than I thought when we'd left the library. We ordered fish and chips and two pints of bitter. By the time she had left, I was more in control of myself.

"Please forgive my being so bold," I said, "but I am concerned about you. What, exactly, is your situation, Professor Lupin?"

His head dropped as he stared down at the table, biting his lip. After a long moment, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Are you unemployed?"

He nodded.

"For how long?"

"Eleven months."

I shook my head sadly. What a shame such a nice man couldn't find work, although I couldn't imagine where he could find work with just an extensive knowledge of magical creatures in his mental toolbox. I wondered what other qualifications he might possess and how to best go about finding him a position. Perhaps I knew of some avenue he'd not yet attempted. He seemed to be out of touch with things considered quite normal to most—such as ink pens and Mark Twain—so I was certain I would know of opportunities he did not. For now, however, I could think of an easier way to help him, if only I could get him to agree.

"Can I help?" I asked.

"You are buying me dinner," he said with a shrug.

"No, I mean apart from that, can I help?"

He shrugged again. "What are you proposing?"

"I'm proposing that you take me on as an apprentice. I don't have much, but I do have a little savings. I can pay you enough to buy three meals a day, at least. Do you have a place to stay?"

Without looking up, he muttered, "Yes."

"So, what do you say?"

Finally he met my eyes. "I suppose you'll want to know my qualifications now, won't you?"

I shook my head. "That can wait. What do you say?"

He sighed again and seemed to be deep in thought for a moment. This time, I found his furrowed brow not attractive but worrisome. I so hoped he'd let me help him, if I could.

"All right."

"Good ... Now that we've got that out of the way, let's have a pleasant dinner."

He smiled wryly, folding his arms over his chest.

"I know, I know," I said wearily, holding up one hand to keep him from voicing the quips his expression spoke ever so clearly. "I said I wasn't going to have dinner with you. Oh well! I've been proven wrong before."

Our food and beer arrived shortly, and Professor Lupin ate ravenously. I forgave him this, since it was likely his first meal in a while. He was certainly eating too rapidly to discuss anything safely. I imagined he'd never heard of the Heimlich manoeuvre either, but I wasn't too eager for him to learn about it the hard way, so I didn't talk to him much whilst he ate. When he finished his first pint, I ordered him another. His mouth was too full to object politely, and I smiled at the advantage I had over him. After we'd finished our food, and sat drinking our beer, he suddenly grasped his stomach.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Just a little cramp," he ground out through gritted teeth. "Nothing to worry about. It happens sometimes when I eat too fast."

"No, it doesn't," I said, fixing my eyes upon him knowingly. "It happens sometimes when you haven't eaten for days, doesn't it?"

His gaze fell to the table again. "How did you know?" he asked at last, in a whisper.

"I've done some volunteer work at a mission. When did you eat last?"

"Five minutes ago," he said, meeting my gaze and grinning. "Weren't you here?"

"I meant before that."

"Tuesday," he said softly, looking away again.

My jaw dropped. "But ... it's Friday!"

I could tell he was smirking, even though he still didn't look directly at me. "Can't put anything past you, can I?"

"Why haven't you eaten if you're carrying around gold coins?" I asked, leaning forward on the table.

He shook his head. "I told you, they're foreign. I can't buy anything with them here."

"What are they?"

"Galleons."

"May I see them?"

Since I was now more or less his benefactor, I'm sure he felt compelled. He frowned at me, removed the coins from his pocket grudgingly, and handed them over. I'd never seen anything like the symbols on the coin's face and rear—not that I could tell which was which. The thing that impressed me most was their weight.

"This has to be almost a full ounce of gold," I whispered. "Why is it that you can't buy food again?"

He shrugged. "There isn't a bank outside of London that exchanges them."

I got the same feeling I had before—that he wasn't telling me something—but again I let it go. Our fragile friendship didn't need my intruding into his business too much. After all, he had a right to some secrets, and his previous expression showed I had already been pushing the limit.

"Well, you don't need a bank," I said, returning the coins. "Just a jewellery store. Any jeweller who makes his own settings or does repairs would be happy to buy these off you."

"You think so?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'm almost certain of it."

"Is there a jeweller in this town who would?"

"There are a couple, I think, but you'll have trouble finding them on your own. Meet me here tomorrow for lunch, and I'll take you afterward."

"You don't have to do this, Miss Rhoades. Really, I am a grown man and quite capable—"

"I don't mind at all, Professor. I'm glad to help."

He smiled warmly. "You are very kind."

I wasn't sure if it was the beer or the lighting, but I had an overwhelming urge to kiss him just then. He must have read the look in my eyes, because he drew my hand to his lips and held it to his cheek, eyes closed. I emitted a small gasp, savouring the warmth of his skin against mine. Tears welled in my eyes again as I turned my hand to touch his face. I wasn't sure which consumed me more: attraction or pity. The two seemed inextricably mingled. When he opened his eyes and looked into mine, a shiver passed through me. His eyes were of the deepest hazel, with a marked ring of dark green around the iris, and absolutely beautiful. I then wondered why I hadn't noticed before.

Taking my hand away slowly, I said, "I should probably go, before I make you an offer I might regret."

"I would hope you wouldn't regret offering," he said gently. "But I am too much of a gentleman to accept." He smiled warmly again, which made me want to melt. "May I at least walk you home?" His eyebrows rose in anticipation of my answer.

"Yes, I think I'd like that," I said, returning his smile.

I stood and pulled a five- and a ten-pound note from my purse for the meal and drinks. Professor Lupin rose also, placing his hand on my back. His touch was wonderful and searing, as if he were projecting all the warmth of his body into me through his palm. We attracted less attention leaving the pub than we had entering, and for this I was grateful. Outside he again offered his arm, and I was slightly dejected, since I'd so enjoyed the feel of his hand on my back. But I accepted his arm just the same. After all, that was such a gallant gesture, and he was nothing if not a gentleman. As we approached my home, his attractively curious expression returned.

"You live in a boarding house?" he asked.

"I'm surprised you recognised it as one," I said. "After all, ink pens were an enigma."

"Well, the sign out front says 'Boarding House.' I can read, you know."

"Touché."

"Are there any vacancies?"

"A couple. Thinking of moving in, are you? You'll need a job first."

"I thought I had a job, as of tonight."

I smiled back at him over my shoulder as we climbed the interior staircase.

"Something about this evening has renewed my sense of optimism," he said, wistfully.

"Something or someone?"

"Perhaps both ... I expect you don't have much privacy in a place like this?"

"I have all the privacy I need," I answered. "I've the top floor all to myself."

"That must cost a fortune," he said, marvelling.

I shrugged. "It would ... if I didn't own the place."

His eyebrows rose and he smiled.

"Left to me by my aunt when she died three years ago. She was a widow with no children. I have cooking and cleaning staff, so it practically runs itself. I couldn't ask for a better home or income."

"So that's why you asked if I had a place to stay ... I didn't think—"

"That a nice girl like me would ask a man she'd known less than two weeks to move in with her?"

"Precisely."

"You're right, I wouldn't have ... Well, this is mine," I said, stopping on the last landing. "Would you care to come in for some tea?"

"Thank you, no. It's late, and I really should be going."

"Suit yourself," I said, pulling another fiver from my purse. "Here."

He raised both hands to object.

"No, I insist. So you can get some breakfast tomorrow, and I'll buy your lunch. I assure you you'll be able to pay me back tomorrow afternoon ... If I'll even accept ... I'm not certain I will." I fixed him with my most determined stare, and his eyes narrowed.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?"

I smiled. "And proud of it."

"Very well," he said, accepting the note and pocketing it. "Good night, Miss Rhoades."

He turned to walk down the stairs, and I had an urge to run after him. This resulted in my abruptly shouting, "Professor?"

Just short of the first step, he turned to face me. "Yes?"

I walked quickly toward him and wrapped my arms about his waist. He returned my embrace, and I sighed as he ran his fingers through my hair and kissed my forehead softly. When I nestled my face against his neck, the oddest thought occurred to me. Even if he hadn't eaten, he still managed to keep well groomed. Oh, he smelled wonderful! I listened to his heartbeat, slightly faster than calm, and his breathing.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Miss Rhoades?"

I put a finger to his lips.

"No, really, I must know ... why—?"

"I knew you were too much of a gentleman to make the first move."

"Ah," he said, and pulled me closer.

"And I think you can call me Melinda now."

"Only if you'll call me Remus."

"It's a deal."

We held one another for a few more minutes, when he said, "I should go."

"If you must," I replied, grasping his hand as he pulled away. "You are welcome to move in here—the boarding house, I mean—if you'd like."

"I'll give it some thought," he said distractedly, but I could already see the mental cogs working away. He was seriously considering it.

"Are you sure you won't have some tea?"

"No, but I will take a rain check. I still have a long walk ahead of me tonight."

"Do you need a lift?"

He shook his head, smiling. "I'll manage."

With a wave, he started down the stairs. I watched his retreating back with a smile and a sigh. As I turned the key to my door, I thought how strange it was meeting a man like him so late in my life. It was almost as if he was the man whom I'd been waiting for. I'm not exactly an unattractive woman, but the few men I'd dated thought my interests a touch too strange to become seriously involved. Since moving to this out of the way town, I'd raised more than a few eyebrows with my interests. Not that anyone thought I was a practising witch. The natives knew my diversions were only a hobby, but they mostly kept their distance, except for the drunks at the Boar's Head. Still, now I'd met someone who knew a great deal about magic, someone who practised magic for a living—even of the well was a tad dry at the moment—I felt my life would never be the same.

When I'd mentioned paying Professor Lupin enough to buy food, I'd meant that, and I could comfortably afford that. But soon I had a better idea: I'd offer to let him stay in a room in my boarding house free of charge, which was better than buying food because meals would be included. I'd see if my kitchen staff couldn't fill in some of the lines in his haggard face. Some of the best cooks in the county work in my kitchen, I am proud to say, so I resigned—if I had anything to say about it—we'd have Remus J. Lupin back to himself in no time.


	4. Lunch, Jewellers, and German

When we last left our heroine, she and Professor Lupin had a very sad conversation at the Boar's Head pub, followed by dinner and sharing a nice little cuddle outside the door of her place. And she thought about offering to allow him to move into her boarding house rent-free in exchange for magic lessons. Will he accept? I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**IV: Lunch, Jewellers, and German**

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When I entered the Boar's Head pub at noon the next day, all heads turned again. This time it was not because Remus was with me, but probably because I'd taken extra care with my appearance since I planned to meet him. As I approached the bar, the barkeep took me in with his searching gaze from under extremely bushy grey eyebrows.

"Meetin' yer young man, Melinda?" he asked, drawing me a pint of bitter.

"What's it to you if I am, Charlie?" I asked with a wide grin.

"I'm likely to git jealous if you keep paradin' him around. I thought you was gonna marry me."

"I never said I would," I said, accepting the glass he slid toward me. "Besides, your wife wouldn't appreciate it too much if I did."

I winked and turned with my mug, walking over to the booth we'd occupied the night before. I sat facing the door, so I wouldn't miss Remus when he came in. As I glanced at my watch, I wondered if the reason he was late arriving at the library the previous afternoon was because of his long walk to wherever he was staying. Perhaps he'd planned on hiring a cab and couldn't find the fare at the last minute. That sounded plausible, I thought, taking a sip.

The door opened, and a flushed Remus J. Lupin entered the bar. Seeing him confirmed two things: first, he had again just made his long walk, and second, he had also apparently taken more care with his appearance, as well. Unless I missed my guess, that was his least threadbare set of clothes. As I waved from the corner, I wondered if that meant we were now a couple. This third thing was confirmed when Remus gently pecked my cheek before sitting. We were definitely a couple.

I beamed at him and said, "Hello."

"Hello," he replied, smiling just as broadly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Wonderfully," I lied. "And you?"

He shook his head. "I didn't either."

"Am I that transparent?" I asked, laughing.

One of his eyebrows rose, but he still grinned. "Let's just say I'd be surprised if a fetch didn't try to hide in you."

I giggled as Charlie approached with another mug of bitter.

"Thank you, Charlie," I said. "Charlie, I'd like you to meet my new friend, Professor Remus J. Lupin."

"No need ta git up, Professor," the barkeep said, sticking out his thick hand.

"Remus, this is the proprietor of this lovely establishment, Charles Tucker."

"Nice to meet you, Mr Tucker," Remus said, shaking Charlie's hand firmly.

The barkeep seemed quite surprised by his grip. His eyes widened ever so slightly. "Aw, Charlie's good enough fer me, Professor." Charlie slung the white towel he carried over his shoulder, whilst reaching for a pad and pencil. "And what will you two be havin' fer lunch?"

"Have any Yorkshire pudding on hand?" I asked.

"I think that's what the wife was puttin' on when I come down. I'll go an' ask 'er."

"I hope you like Yorkshire pudding," I said after Charlie left. "Gladys Tucker can only cook two things passably, and you had the other last night."

"Yes, that's fine," Remus said with a wave, taking my hand. "But—if she's such a bad cook—how do they stay in business?"

"Well, the locals know better than to come here for the food. Their beer, on the other hand, is excellent."

"I'm inclined to agree with that." He held up his mug, and I clinked mine against it. Then he took a deep drink.

"Have you thought about my offer?" I asked.

"What offer was that?" he asked, after licking froth from his upper lip. Something inside me suddenly envied those suds.

"Moving into my boarding house."

He frowned. "Ah, yes ... that ... well ... I think it's a very bad idea."

"Er ... Why?" I asked. I don't consider myself a hopeless optimist as a rule, but I never thought he'd refuse. I was taken aback.

"I'm a bit of a loner," he said. "I think a busy boarding house would make me rather nervous."

"It's only busy at mealtimes and in the evening. The rest of the time, it's quite dead."

"Still..." He paused and studied my face. "You're going to be stubborn about this, aren't you?"

I smiled. "Of course."

He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head.

"I was thinking we could exchange room and board for ... tutoring." I omitted the word "magical" from my statement, as Charlie was returning with two plates of Yorkshire pudding. "Thanks, Charlie," I said as he set them in front of us.

The barkeep took one look at our faces and knew something of import was being discussed, so he returned to wipe down the bar.

Remus looked distressed. "I couldn't ask you to—"

"You aren't asking. I'm offering. There's a difference."

"I can't," he said with a heavy sigh.

"What if I said I wouldn't take no for an answer?" I asked.

"Then I'd say I have to think about it some more."

He looked worried. Terribly worried. That was the last effect I thought offering him a job, room, and board would produce, and I couldn't imagine why.

"You'd have to think about it indefinitely, wouldn't you?"

"Quite possibly."

I leant closer, lowering my voice. "Look, I'm not asking you to move in with me, only into the same building. If you think I'm moving too fast, I wish you'd say so."

He shook his head again. "No, it's not that."

"I hate to think of your walking all that way every day to teach me, especially when I have rooms available."

"I don't mind the walk."

"Maybe not, but you don't have much fat to spare at present."

He smiled. "Why don't we eat then, and we can talk about this later?"

"All right," I said, lifting my fork. "How far out of town do you live, anyhow?"

"About five miles." Remus took a bite, and the food seemed to agree with him. "I've had better, but I've also had much worse."

"This isn't so bad—one of her better attempts. But nothing is worse than the rest of the Gladys' cooking."

"Eating nothing is far worse," he said, staring at his plate intently. 

"I know."

It took a moment for what I said to register. When it did, he looked up suddenly. "What do you mean?"

I sighed softly. "I mean I didn't know about those cramps from volunteering at a mission. I knew about them from eating my first meal for a week at a mission."

He looked away then, frowning, and I wondered if it was only the charity aspect of my offer that bothered him. I understood his not wanting me to feel sorry for him. Did I ever understand that! When I showed up on my aunt's doorstep almost twenty years earlier—cold, wet, and hungry, and begging her not to tell my parents where I was, or I'd run away again—she took me in, gave me food and a bed. But she never acted as though she felt sorry for me. She let me work in the boarding house, washing linens for the guests and cleaning rooms after school in exchange for my room and board. I never dreamt, as I took care of her when she fell ill, that it would earn me her home and business when she died. Being able to earn my keep gave me a sense of pride, however, and I thought that was what I was trying to offer Remus. Perhaps he didn't see it that way.

"I'm doing all right now," I continued, "but I wasn't always so comfortable. I ran away from home at thirteen."

"Why?" he asked, brows knitted into his adorably confused expression again.

I swallowed a lump in my throat before answering. "Let's just say ... I was afraid of poltergeists."

Remus looked puzzled for a few seconds, then nodded solemnly.

We ate the rest of the meal in silence. Once we finished our second pint each, I left some money on the table for Charlie, and we walked out toward the car park. Remus eyed my car dubiously as I unlocked the passenger door. I wondered if he was as unfamiliar with cars as he was with ink pens. I walked around to the right side, got in and started the engine, when I noticed he looked uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "You don't like my car?"

"No, I'm sure it's fine," he said quickly. Too quickly.

"You look awfully nervous for someone who thinks my car is fine."

"Couldn't we walk to the jeweller's?" he asked calmly, although his voice had a slight edge. "It's lovely weather, even for May."

"It's five miles to the nearest shop," I protested. "You may not mind a brisk, five-mile walk, but I'm not too keen on one if I can avoid it." I had been proven wrong once again. He'd never intended to hire a cab the night he was late getting to the library. If fact, he'd probably never ridden in one at all.

"Do you get car sickness?"

"Yes, that's it." He said this too quickly as well.

"You're lying, Remus." He looked at me quickly, just a hint of panic showing in his eyes, and I rolled my eyes. "Would you prefer we fly?"

"Actually, I would," he muttered.

"That was meant to be sarcastic."

"I caught the sarcasm, I assure you."

He was acting too much like a caged animal, and my patience quickly wore thin. "Oh, don't be a baby," I said, throwing the car into reverse. "And put on your belt."

First he looked to see how I put on mine. He then reached over his shoulder and snapped his seatbelt into place. I backed out of the space, and we were shortly on our way to the jeweller's. Remus' knuckles were white for the first two hundred metres or so, but he relaxed when he realised I was a good enough driver not to get us both killed on a deserted street. When we pulled up at Huggles' Jewellery, he started into a fit of laughter I didn't quite comprehend. At first I thought it might have just been a catharsis that the "dangerous" car ride was over, but he continued to laugh for a full minute.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, covering his mouth. "Nothing at all."

I turned in my seat to face him. "You aren't going to embarrass me in there, are you?"

He looked seriously suddenly. "I'll try not to," he said quietly.

I nodded. "Right. Now hand over those Galleons, and let me do the talking."

Remus nodded as well, whilst digging in his pocket. Soon he placed the coins in my outstretched palm. He hesitated whilst I got out, and I wondered if that was so he could see how to open the car door. He followed me shortly, however, and we entered the shop, accompanied by the ringing of the bell attached to the door. The jeweller then appeared.

"Good day, Miss Rhoades," Mr Huggle said, moving his magnifying glass back from his eye. "Here to buy an engagement set?"

My eyes went wide. I had thought Remus might embarrass me in front of the jeweller, but apparently I had it backward.

"Er—no, Mr Huggle," I said, approaching the counter.

After making a sound like repressed laughter, Remus immediately coughed and covered his mouth. I shot him a disapproving look, and he turned to admire some pictures on the wall.

"Actually," I continued, "I was wondering if you'd be interested in these coins."

"Don't deal in coins, Miss Rhoades," he said with an impatient sniff.

"Yes, I know that, Mr Huggle, but to my untrained eye, they seem to be almost pure gold."

I laid the Galleons on the counter for his inspection. Each time I said the jeweller's name, Remus' shoulders shook, and Mr Huggle was beginning to notice.

"Is there something wrong with your friend?" he whispered.

"Not exactly," I said, shooting Remus a sidelong glance. "He's German. Doesn't speak a word of English, I'm afraid. I suppose Huggle means something strange in German, although I don't know what that could be." Remus sniggered again, and I snapped, "Sei bitte still!" asking him to be quiet.

Without missing a beat, he turned toward me and said, "Entschuldigen Sie bitte, daß ich Sie in Verlegenheit gebracht habe." My jaw dropped at his flawless German for "Please forgive me if I caused you any embarrassment." I turned back to Mr Huggle, flustered.

"What does it mean?" the jeweller asked.

"S-sorry?" I asked, still quite shaken.

"My name. What does it mean in German?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'll ask him. Remus, was bedeutet Huggle auf Deutsch?"

He smiled broadly. "Es ist bayerischer Dialekt für Känguruh."

His translation was so silly, I couldn't help laughing myself. "Sorry, Mr Huggle. He says it's Bavarian dialect for kangaroo."

"Oh, then I see why he's laughing," he said, moving his magnifying glass back in front of his eye to examine the Galleons. "I'd probably laugh too, if I were a German ... Well, you were right, Miss Rhoades. I'd say these coins are twenty-two karat. That's the highest gold content they use in jewellery, but you can't get that kind of jewellery here. Eighteen is the norm in most western countries. Although I never thought I'd see twenty-two karat in a coin. I thought that'd make them too soft for coinage. Are these German?"

I turned back to Remus. "Sind das deutsche Münzen?"

"Ja. Es ist bayerisches Geld," he said, nodding, "aber es ist sehr alt."

"He says it is Bavarian money, but it's very old."

"Ah," Mr Huggle said. "That's why I've never seen anything like them."

"Sag ihm: Sie gehörten dem Urgroßvater meines Urgroßvaters. Es sind alte Familienerbstücke."

"What was that?" Mr Huggle asked.

"He said to tell you they belonged to his great-grandfather's great-grandfather. Old family heirlooms."

"Then why does he want to part with them?"

I leant closer to the jeweller and whispered, "Well, he needs the money, doesn't he?"

Remus broke in with, "Ich mag meine Familie nicht besonders."

"He said he doesn't like his family very much."

Mr Huggle looked suspicious when Remus answered a question I hadn't translated, but I covered quickly. "He understands a little English, but he can't speak it."

"Was haben Sie gesagt?" Remus asked, when he realised he'd erred.

"Ich sagte, daß du ein bisschen Englisch verstehst, aber du könntest es nicht sprechen."

"Ach ... Das ist so zutreffend."

"What was that?" Mr Huggle asked.

"He said, 'That is so true'. Well, actually, 'That is so applicable,' but in this context I'd say 'true' is more ... applicable."

"Meine Zunge verläßt mich," Remus added with a mischievous grin.

I started to translate this in my head as, "My tongue leaves me." Then I realised that smile meant he knew the verb would give me trouble. "He said, 'My tongue fails me'."

Remus' face became deadly serious. "Die Münzen müssen eingeschmolzen werden—sofort."

I was confused. I understood what he said, but not why he said it, so I asked. "Warum?"

"Sie müssen geheim bleiben, wie die Bücher."

I pondered this: They must remain secret, like the books.

"Sag es ihm!" Remus snapped. "Das ist lebenswichtig!"

"Beruhig dich," I said, telling Remus to calm down. I turned back to the jeweller. "He wants you to give your word that you will melt them—immediately."

"He must really hate his family."

"There is no love lost there, I'll admit," I said, nodding sadly and hoping my tone reiterated that emotion.

"Of course I'll melt them," Mr Huggle replied with a shrug. "They wouldn't be much use to me if I didn't. I don't know if I'll get to it today, though."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Remus bristle.

"No, he is most insistent," I said. "He claims it is vital."

"Very well," Mr Huggle said, shrugging again. "I'll melt them immediately." Remus' shoulders relaxed before I could translate. Mr Huggle didn't notice because he threw the coins on a scale and started some calculations, but I nodded for appearances' sake. The jeweller looked up and scratched his bald head. "That's a little over 22 grams of gold there, trading at nine and a quarter pounds per gram today. And, since I don't like to deal with decimals or count change, let's call it £200."

I turned back to Remus. "Zweihundert englische Pfund?"

"Ist das viel?"

I smiled at his expression. He looked as if he really didn't know the answer when he asked if that was much. "Ja, das ist viel," I answered.

He nodded his assent to the price, finally approaching the counter. Mr Huggle opened the till and counted out some bills. Remus smiled, placing his hand on my back again, and I smiled as well, since his caress had the same effect on me that it had the previous night. When the jeweller handed Remus the bills, he pocketed them.

"Dankeschön," he said, nodding.

Mr Huggle looked to me.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "I thought you'd know that one. It means, 'Thank you beautifully'."

"I did know it," Mr Huggle replied, his eyebrows rising. "I always suspected it didn't mean just 'thank you' like everyone says."

"Quite right. Well, auf Wiedersehen."

"Auf Wiedersehen," Remus repeated.

"I know that one also," Mr Huggle said. "Good-bye."

When we were safely back in my car, I said, "You realise you're going to have to speak German every time you see him from now on."

"Oh no," Remus said, waving that off. "I'll speak broken English the next time I see him. In fact, I think he'll be impressed at how rapidly my English improves, although I shall have to remember to affect an accent."

"You are incorrigible," I said, backing out of the car park.

Remus smiled wryly. "I told you I've always been a trouble maker."

"I was trying very hard not to believe you ... I was impressed in there, by the way."

"I could say the same." He leant over and kissed my cheek as I shifted into first gear. "I'm only glad you picked a language I know. How did you come to be so fluent?"

"My aunt was German. You?"

"I lived in Germany for a number of years."

"Bavaria?"

"Here and there."

"Well, I'm only glad we both know a language Mr Huggle doesn't."

He sniggered again at the mention of the jeweller's name.

"Just what is so funny about 'Huggle'?"

"It's ... It's an in-joke for people who teach magic."

"Meaning you aren't going to tell me?"

"Not yet. Maybe after I've told you where I went to school."

I drove back into town and then through it. Remus was much calmer on the return journey, gazing out the window and taking in the scenery. He asked if he could lower the window. When I asked why, he replied he liked the feel of the wind on his face. I suddenly had the strangest mental image of his hanging his head out the window like a dog—mouth open and tongue lolling. I don't know where this thought came from, but it seemed so undignified, so unlike him, that I pushed the notion out of my mind.

Remus glanced at me curiously when I passed the Boar's Head. He opened his mouth to say something when I drove past the boarding house, seemingly nervous, but he closed his mouth again. After I'd left the library behind as well, he looked alarmed, sitting stiffly and gripping the edge of the seat with white knuckles again.

"Where are we going?" he asked, in a voice of forced calm, although he was a touch pale.

"I was hoping you'd tell me," I said casually.

"Er ... You're the one operating this piece of machinery."

"Yes, but I don't know where you live to pick up your things."

He hung his head. "I said moving into your boarding house was a bad idea."

"And I said I wasn't going to take no for an answer."

"Please stop the car."

"What's the matter? Car sick?"

"No, but I want out all the same."

"Sorry, Remus. I'm going to keep driving until one of three things happens. One—we arrive at your current abode; two—we run out of petrol; or three—you give me a good reason why you cannot move into my boarding house."

"I don't want charity," he whispered.

"Not good enough," I said. "I'm offering you a job, not charity. Try again."

"I'm no good around strangers."

"You were too at ease with Mr Huggle for me to believe that."

For the first time, he didn't snigger at the name. "Well, I doubt I could tell you anything you'd understand or believe. So I'll have to take option four."

"What's option four?"

As I said this, I realised too late that he hadn't put on his seatbelt. He opened the car door and jumped out, hitting the pavement with a thud and rolling down the incline at the side of the road.

"REMUS!!!" I screamed, slamming on the break pedal so hard that my head knocked the windshield.


	5. Ephemeral Injuries and Tea

When we last left our heroine, Professor Lupin had just jumped out of a speeding car (how very James Bond) to avoid telling Melinda why he couldn't move into her boarding house. Didn't mean to scare anyone with that, but he was feeling like a caged animal (pardon the pun), and I figured he would gnaw off his own leg to get away. I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**V: Ephemeral Injuries and Tea**

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The car screeched to a halt and then promptly died because I hadn't pressed the clutch. I threw open the door and rushed back to find Remus wherever he'd fallen. He lay face down in the grass about sixty metres away and, as far as I could tell, he wasn't moving. I crouched, rolled him over, feeling for a pulse, and sighed. Thank God he wasn't dead! As tears coursed down my face, I cradled his head in my lap.

"You damned fool," I whispered, caressing his cheek. "I would have stopped the car."

His eyes fluttered then, and he said, "Well, I couldn't be sure how stubborn you really are."

I gaped for a fraction of a second before shrieking at him. "What the hell did you do that for?!?"

"Where is that angel of mercy I was just talking to?" He looked to the left and right, a small smirk curving the corners of his mouth. "Did you see her leave?"

"I've a good mind to thump you!"

"Go ahead! Kick me when I'm down! I'm used to it."

From his expression, I could tell he was trying to lighten the mood. I must say, I'd never met anyone more extraordinary in all my life. First, he hurled himself out of a moving vehicle, and then he made light of the situation.

"Don't make me laugh. I'm angry with you. How can you be so irritating and so likeable at the same time?"

"Years of practise." Those striking hazel eyes looked into mine, and my anger disappeared. As I pulled him into my arms, he yelped. "Not so tight!"

I bit my lip. "It looks like you've broken some ribs. We need to get you to a doctor."

"No, I'm all right," he answered, struggling to sit up. "Or I will be after some rest. And a spot of tea. Yes, I think tea would help immensely."

"Can you stand?"

"I think so."

Apart from the sore ribs—which I was convinced were broken although Remus maintained they were merely bruised—he only had a gash on his forehead. I helped him stand and walked him back toward the car. As I eased him down, I pulled the lever to make the seat recline.

"Are you sure you don't need a doctor?" I asked, starting the car again.

"Positive," he replied with a small nod. "I'm not so fragile as I look."

"Well, I know you don't want to move in, but you're are staying with me tonight, whether you like it or not."

He opened his eyes momentarily, took in what must have been my very determined expression, and then nodded again.

"What were you trying to accomplish, anyhow? Would you rather die than accept my help?"

"I knew that leap wouldn't kill me."

I scoffed. "Why? Are you immortal? Super human? Or you just know how to take a fall?"

"None of the above," he said with a shrug, followed shortly by a grunt, a wince, and a grimace. "You weren't going very fast. You started slowing down the instant you asked if I was car sick."

"How—? Did you see me take my foot off the accelerator?"

"No. The pitch of the engine starting dropping."

"Why on earth would you notice that?"

"I have very good ears."

I'd clearly underestimated him. Here I thought he had been just as emotional as I during that conversation, but he was rational enough to notice a small change in the engine noise. After I drove back to the boarding house, I walked him up the back stairs. I didn't particularly care for the whole town knowing I had a man staying the night, as they would within minutes had we been seen.

Remus was more himself by the time we reached the top floor, only leaning against the wall whilst I unlocked the door. I put the kettle on, and then walked him to the bathroom where he sat on the loo whilst I cleaned the cut on his forehead.

"That's going to need stitches," I said.

"No, it won't," he replied, shaking his head ever so slightly.

"How do you know? You haven't looked at it."

"Trust me. It won't need stitches."

"Are you afraid of doctors?"

"Absolutely. Jumping out of a moving car—no problem. Doctors..." He shuddered.

"Positively infuriating," I said, shaking my head, and he smiled. Then I taped a piece of gauze gingerly over the cut. "Would you like something for pain?"

"Do you have any aspirin? I can only take aspirin."

"Why?"

"The others make me ill."

I rummaged through the medicine cabinet, finally pulling out an ancient bottle of aspirin, and sighed. "Well, it looks like these are off. I'll see what I can find in the first aid kits downstairs in a bit."

By this time, the kettle was calling. I helped Remus back to the sitting room, laying him gently on the sofa, and went to make the tea. Something more to eat would do him no harm. As I rifled through the cupboard looking for biscuits, he called to me. Since this was the first time he'd used my name, I stopped what I was doing suddenly and listened.

"Melinda ... This may sound slightly odd, but ... Well, you aren't planning to pull out grandmother's silver tea service or anything, are you?"

I smiled, continuing my biscuit quest. "Why? You don't think you're worthy of grandmother's silver?"

"Frankly, I don't."

I shook my head, wondering why he would have such a low opinion of himself. Then I picked up the already prepared tray and joined him.

"Well then, it's porcelain and stainless steel for you."

Remus sat up, looking relieved.

"I'm so sorry," I continued, setting the tray down on the coffee table and sitting next to him. "I don't seem to have any biscuits. Would you like me to make some scones? I'm sure I do have some clotted cream and jam."

Now Remus shook his head. "Don't put yourself out."

I sighed quietly. "Well, I wanted our tea to be nice."

He then did something very strange: he closed his eyes and I could have sworn he sniffed. "Actually, I think you do have some biscuits. Maybe they are hidden behind something."

"No, I just looked."

"Mind if I have a look?"

"You're in no condition—"

"I'm feeling much better now," he said, rising quickly and going to the kitchen. He returned directly with a box of biscuits. I stared at the box, dumbfounded.

"Where were they?" I asked.

"Behind the flour canister in the third cupboard to the left over the sink."

He shrugged as he tore away the cellophane covering the box, opened it, and offering the biscuits to me with a smile. My jaw dropped.

"How did you know they were there? Magic?"

"Yes," he replied casually, although his eyes twinkled. "It was a baked-goods divination charm I picked up in Germany."

I only stared at him blankly.

"I'm teasing! What good Englishwoman is ever without a box of biscuits in reserve?" He smiled and bit into one as I handed him a cup of tea.

I nodded, accepting that reason for lack of a better one. "Well," I continued, standing. "I'll just nip downstairs and see if I can find you some aspirin, then."

"Don't fuss," he replied, again shaking his head. "I'm feeling much better now, and I don't want you drinking cold tea on my account."

"Are you sure?" I asked, my forehead knitting into a frown.

"Yes, I'm sure." He patted the sofa cushion next to him, and I sat as he put an arm around me, kissing my temple. "Thank you for being so worried. It's not necessary, but it's touching all the same."

"Why isn't it necessary? I should think any man who'd fallen out of a car would need a doctor."

"I didn't fall. I jumped."

"Whatever. My point is you should be unconscious or have a concussion at the least. Why are you up and about, having tea?"

"I said I'm not as fragile as I look."

"That is not a sufficient explanation."

"Well, it will have to do for now because I won't elaborate, and there is nothing you can say or do to persuade me otherwise."

"I could ask you to leave."

"Might I remind you that you insisted I come here in the first place? Why do you think asking me to leave would sway me?"

I leant forward, setting down my cup, and buried my face in my hands. He was right, of course: I had practically forced him. Asking him to leave would be no hardship at all. But I sincerely did not understand how he could be so cavalier about all of this. A clink of porcelain told me he'd set his cup down as well, and then a warm hand slid down my back. I wanted to melt into his arms and forget what had happened earlier, if only for the sake of my own sanity, but I knew I couldn't. I turned back to face him.

"Remus, I like you. I really do. But I don't think I can do this."

He nodded and rose, immediately starting toward the door.

"Wait!" I jumped from the sofa and flung my arms around him. Then I remember his bruised ribs, and loosened my hold.

"It's all right," he said, as if reading my mind. "Hold me as tightly as you want."

Tears and words poured out of me uncontrollably. "I've never met anyone as wonderful as you, and I thought I'd lost you today, before I even had the chance to know you. It was the most horrible experience of my life. Don't you ever do that to me again! Do you hear me? EVER!!!" I sobbed against his chest as he stroked my hair and comforted me with soft words.

"Shhh. It's all right. I won't break. I'm right as rain. I'm fine, really I am."

I pulled back, looking at him through a mist of tears. He peeled the bandage off his forehead, and the cut was gone. No blood, no mark, no scar—nothing! Nothing to show he'd ever had a cut. Nothing except for the bloody gauze and tape in his hand.

"How...?" 

He smiled, placing both hands on my cheeks and wiping my tears with his thumbs. "Never underestimate the incredible healing powers of tea and biscuits."

I shook my head, slack-jawed. "Whatever your secret is, it must be grave, or you wouldn't have tried to kill yourself rather than reveal it."

"I knew I wasn't in any danger. You may not have known that, but I certainly did."

"How did you know?"

"It doesn't matter."

His hands were still on my face, and he tilted my head back. As his lips touched mine, for the moment I didn't care that he'd miraculously healed before my very eyes. I opened my mouth and felt the soft, sensual brush of his tongue. My knees gave way and I clung to his shoulders for support. He shifted oddly, as if he were pulling something from inside his coat. I couldn't imagine why, but I didn't care. His kiss was so soft, so engrossing, I didn't much care to notice anything else.

He pulled me tightly to him, hands delving into my hair, and my mouth wandered down from his mouth to his cheek and then to his neck. As I nibbled his skin, he moaned with pleasure. Remus then whispered something I didn't catch, and everything went black. When I woke, I was lying on the couch with something cold on my forehead. I opened my eyes to see Remus sitting beside me, holding my hand and looking concerned.

"Glad to have you back," he said, pulling an ice pack off my brow and laying it aside. "You gave me quite a fright."

"What happened?" I asked, groggily.

"Well ... I kissed you, and you fainted. I like to think of myself as a good kisser, but I never dreamt I was that good."

"Where are we?"

"You're home, and you're safe. Don't worry. Everything is fine."

"How did we get here?"

He looked confused all of a sudden. "Don't you remember?"

"No," I replied, sitting up and rubbing my temples.

"What do you remember?"

"I remember lunch, the jeweller's, you speaking German exceptionally well, leaving the jeweller's car park ... and then ... waking up on the sofa."

Remus nodded with an almost satisfied air. "You must have hit your head harder than I thought."

"I hit my head?"

"After you fainted. I tried to catch you, but I wasn't fast enough. You fell backwards, and I only got hold of your blouse." With his face screwed up apologetically, he scratched his neck idly and added, "Ripped it a bit. Sorry about that."

I looked down and saw a six-inch rip in the left side seam of my blouse. "Oh, that's nothing. I can sew that right up. How did we end up here?"

His eyes widened. "Oh ... well ... We left the jeweller's and came back here for tea. Your idea, since I took a rain check the other night. You decided to sneak me up the back stairs, although I daresay I thought I deserved better than that. I wasn't sure you didn't have a mind to ravish me, you naughty girl." He touched a finger to my nose, and I smiled.

"Anyhow, we talked for a while. I don't know what came over me, but we were having such a warm conversation, I took the liberty of kissing you. Then ... splat. You were out cold. I guess that serves me right. It'll be a while before I try that again."

"Don't be so hasty," I said, smiling and taking his hand. "You probably just caught me off guard."

"I suppose so." He reached inside his coat and pulled out a bar of chocolate. After removing the wrapper, he broke off a large chunk. "Here. Lie back and have some of this. It'll help."

"Help what?" I asked, although I was already on my way to reclining.

"Well, I wasn't completely sure if it was my kiss that sent you reeling or low blood sugar. We did drink quite a bit at lunch. Have you ever had fainting spells before?"

"Not that I know of." I took and ate the piece of chocolate. "I guess we'll have to try kissing again, after we make sure my blood sugar isn't the problem."

"We should wait a few minutes, to be sure." He brushed his fingertips lightly over my forehead and down my cheek, then grasped my chin. "But I suppose it wouldn't do any harm, since you're already lying down and all." He rubbed his thumb back and forth across my chin and gazed into my eyes dreamily.

"What were we discussing?"

"Hmmm?"

"Before you kissed me. You said we were having a warm conversation. What were we discussing?"

"Oh! You were telling me all the reasons why I should move in here—very persuasively, I might add—and I was beginning to think it wasn't such a bad idea after all."

"It's a shame I don't remember that."

Suddenly Remus began to stare off into space. "I was moved. I didn't realise how much you cared before today. Indeed, I didn't think it possible that anyone could care so much about me."

"Remus, why ever would you say a thing like that?" I asked, sitting up and putting my hand to his cheek.

He turned away from my touch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. "Because, Melinda, that has been my experience. I am not accustomed to people caring."

I wrapped my arms about his waist, resting my cheek against his back. "If I have anything to say about it, you'll get used to at least one person's caring quickly."

He smiled at me over his shoulder.

"Well, it's been a few minutes," I said. "Do you want to try again?"

"You say that as though we're about to perform a science experiment or something," he said, crinkling his nose with obvious distaste. 

"We are, in a way. Sorry ... I know sometimes I sound rather coldly scientific."

Remus chuckled and turned to face me. "Before we begin, do you have any smelling salts?"

"In the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Didn't you smell them when you went looking for the ice pack?"

"Oh, that's what that smell was."

He laid me gingerly back on the sofa, and bent to kiss me. Luckily, I did not faint this time, nor did I forget the kiss. In fact, I don't think I will ever forget that kiss until my dying day. His lips were soft and sensual, his mouth warm and inviting. I found myself thinking, _If all gentlemen kiss this way, how on earth do they remain gentlemen_? I couldn't imagine any woman confronted with such strong temptation who could resist for long. My hands stole about his neck, whilst his gravitated toward my waist, and I entwined my fingers in his hair. I was just seriously considering ripping his clothes off and ravishing him as he'd suggested earlier when he pulled away suddenly, gasping for breath.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly. Then he smiled. "Nothing."

I made my tone more sultry, wriggling my eyebrows, as I asked, "Afraid of turning into a wolf?"

Remus' face registered shock then offence.

"I'm sorry," I quickly explained. "I was only teasing. I know you're a gentleman."

His expression relaxed into a grin. "It probably won't sound like it, with what I'm about to say. I hope no one is listening at the door."

"No one comes up to this floor without my permission," I assured him. "Not even the cleaning staff."

He stood and began to pace slowly. "Well, we need to discuss my moving in. You know I have some reservations, and they are well founded, I assure you, even though I cannot explain. There are some conditions which must be met, or my answer will have to be no."

"I'm listening," I said.


	6. No Pets Clause and Library Cards

When we last left our heroine, she'd seen her new beau heal miraculously in front of her, only to "faint" when he kissed her, and not remember anything about it. But, he had agreed to move into her boarding house, provided certain conditions were met. I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**VI: No Pets Clause and Library Cards**

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"First and foremost, my privacy is imperative," Remus said, still pacing. "My door is to remain locked at all times. I'll clean the room myself and take my own linens down to the laundry."

"I think the staff will agree to that," I answered. "One less room to clean will hardly cause a revolt."

His pacing sped up. "As a corollary—and I want to emphasise that this is very important—if there is no answer at my door, even when you know I'm here, I don't want anyone forcing entry."

"You're not planning to commit suicide, are you?"

"No," he said with an impatient wave. He then stopped and smiled. "I know I sound enigmatic."

"That's all right. You're allowed. Besides, mysterious men are interesting." I gave him a playful smile.

"Please don't be glib about this, Melinda. I want a permanent 'Do Not Disturb' order on my room."

"Absolutely..." I bit my lip. "But ... what should we do in case of some sort of disaster, like a fire?"

"Let me burn," he growled, starting to pace again.

I gaped at him. "You're serious."

"I am deathly serious!"

I nodded numbly. "All right, Remus. Whatever you require."

He turned and stopped mid-stride, smiling. "How do you feel about pets?"

After the previous conditions, and the manner with which he'd proposed them, this question took me completely by surprise. With my jaw again hanging open, I blinked at him for a few seconds before I found my voice.

"I—I'm sorry ... pets?"

Remus nodded. "Yes, pets. Like them? Hate them? Anything in between?"

I shook my head, as if to clear my mind. "What kind of pets do you have?"

He shrugged. "Oh, I don't have any."

Now I was thoroughly confused. "Then why should you care how I feel about them?"

"Well, I was just wondering—if you heard barking or howling coming from my room—would that be enough to have me thrown out on my ear?"

"But if you don't have a dog, what does that matter?"

"I sometimes take in strays."

_So do I_, I thought. "How can you feed a stray?" I asked, incredulous. "You have enough trouble feeding yourself."

He shrugged again. "I usually manage."

"Well, I don't know," I said slowly. "I like dogs well enough, I suppose, but some of my tenants might get a little antsy."

"All right, pets are out," he said, nodding resignedly.

"Is that everything?"

"For now. If I think of anything else, I'll let you know."

"Right," I said, standing. "Should we shake on it, or would you prefer a lease?"

"Oh ... No, a handshake would be fine." I extended my hand, and he pulled me toward him. "On second thought, let's seal it with a kiss, shall we?"

"You read my mind."

He kissed me then, not as long or as sensually as before, but it was definitely a deal-closing type of kiss. Not that I'd finished many negotiations with such an action before, although we certainly have since. When he pulled back, he was smiling.

"I think I'm going to like living here."

"I was hoping you would. Now, would you like to inspect the available rooms?"

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea."

"I'll just go change my blouse, and we'll be off." I returned shortly wearing an unripped garment when he offered his arm, and we started toward the door. "Oh, I almost forgot," I said, bending to retrieve my satchel. "This morning I went back to the library and picked up that book you mentioned."

I pulled out the large leather-bound tome with the Gryffindor House crest. There were three other crests on the cover as well, for Hufflepuff House—yellow with a black badger, Slytherin House—green with a silver snake, and Ravenclaw House—blue with a bronze eagle. No doubt Remus couldn't see those three the other night from the way I'd carried the book. The title, in gilded lettering, was _Hauntings of Hogwarts_. After discussing poltergeists and Peeves with Remus the previous night, the significance of the book finally dawned on me.

"So you went to this school ... Hogwarts?" I asked, handing him the book.

I wasn't sure if my question or the sight of the book made him blanch. His eyes grew wide. "Where—?" He swallowed hard. "Where did you get this?"

"I told you: the library."

"Have you read it?"

"Cover to cover. It talks about hauntings of the castle, but it doesn't mention much about the school itself, like where it is for instance. A school in a castle must be big enough to attract attention, I should think, but I couldn't find anything about Hogwarts anywhere else. I even asked the librarians, but the only thing they could lead me to was this book, which didn't help much. The book talks about the ghosts as great length—like that poltergeist you mentioned, Peeves, and Nearly-Headless Nick, the Bloody Baron, the Fat Friar, the Grey Lady—Remus, what's the matter with you?"

He wrung his hands as I spoke, and, when I finished, asked, "Do you know if anyone else has read it?"

"There weren't too many names on the card."

"The library shouldn't have this book. Do you know where they got it?"

"No, but they receive a lot of donations. The book was probably given to them by someone's estate."

"How can I get hold of that card?"

"The card that says who's borrowed the book?"

His eyes were frantic. "Yes!"

"Well, when I bring the book back, they'll slip the card into this sleeve," I said, showing him the inside front cover. "Then you go to the library, find the book, and look at the card. It's not highly classified information or anything."

"How long after you take it back before they put it on the shelf?"

"I don't know. A few hours, at most. If I put it in the slot tonight, you can look at the card tomorrow afternoon."

"All right, let's go do that now."

"Why?"

"Because this is important."

"I don't have to put it in the slot now."

He glared as if I were defying him. "Why not?"

"The library is still open."

"Oh," he said, with a sigh. "Well, let's take it directly inside. Then we'll know exactly when it's on the shelf."

"Don't you want to see the rooms—?"

"We can do that after. Come on." He grabbed my arm, almost brusquely, ushering me out the door.

"What's the hurry? No one else is going to read it whilst you're holding it, you know."

"I know, but I'd feel better if this is taken care of immediately."

We walked to the library briskly. Although Remus was trying to be casual, I could tell this was weighing heavily on his mind. Not so much that I'd read the book—he trusted me enough to give me his own books—but that others had. Of course, I didn't know what he thought he was going to do about that. He couldn't very well go back in time to keep them from reading the book, nor could he wipe its contents from their memory. He seemed to have a plan in mind, however, and I found myself somewhat intrigued as to what that plan might be. Before we entered, he took my arm again—much more gently this time, if no less insistently.

"You know where the book is kept on the shelves?" he asked, staring into my eyes with an air of urgency.

"More or less," I answered. "I could find it within a few minutes."

"That will do nicely," he said and then opened the door for me.

As we entered the library, we were again met with cold stares from the staff. I approached the counter and laid the book down, whilst Remus took a magazine and sat at a table from which the counter was clearly visible. The librarian searched through a box and fished out a small white card. She then slipped the card into the sleeve and set off from the desk as I joined Remus at the table.

"Aren't we going after her?" I whispered.

"We'll wait until she returns. You said you could locate the book, didn't you?"

I nodded.

"It's less suspicious that way."

I pretended to read over his shoulder, but I watched the desk the whole time. The librarian returned within minutes.

Remus flipped a few more pages, made some inane comments about the articles and pictures, then whispered, "Come on."

I took a circuitous route through the shelves and finally led him to the book's approximate location. He pulled the book off the shelf, opening the front cover to make sure the card was there, and then handed the book to me.

"Put this in your bag," he said.

"You can't just steal a library book," I protested.

"Watch me."

"They do counts every month to see what gets loaned out and what doesn't. The slow books are sold to raise funds at the end of the fiscal year. With as few names as this one had, it'll be in that pile soon anyhow."

"That's not good enough."

"This isn't just your troublemaking streak again, is it?"

"No, this isn't even close to a prank. It's much more serious than that. Lives are at stake. Now put it in your bag."

"How can lives be at stake over a book about ghosts?"

"Look, you can either put this in your bag now, or I'll come back with my briefcase tomorrow and nick it myself."

"It won't fit in your briefcase."

"Then I'll find something it will fit in. The point is—"

He broke off and held up his hand. Apparently he'd heard something I didn't. I started to wonder if there were voices in his head making him act so crazy. He listened intently for a few seconds and then shook his head.

"The point is I'll have this book one way or another eventually," he continued in a harsh whisper, "so you might as well help me."

I threw up my hands in exasperation.

"I'll give you two hundred pounds if you put this in your bag right now!" he whispered urgently.

"Keep your money," I said, sliding the book into my satchel. _No wonder you're broke_, I thought, rolling my eyes.

We then attempted to nonchalantly browse the shelves, working our way slowly towards the exit. The staff watched us more suspiciously than normal, probably because we weren't making a great deal of noise on this occasion. In the end, we managed to slip out of the library unhindered.

When we were safely outside, I asked, "Now, do you mind telling me what all this is about?"

"I do mind," he said, flatly. "Do you know the people on the card?

"I recognised some of the names."

"How would I go about contacting them?"

"The telephone directory, I suppose. It will have their names and addresses."

"Do you have a telephone directory?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I have a telephone directory! I have a telephone, haven't I?"

"Do you?"

"Yes! You really are a strange man, Remus Lupin."

He smiled wryly. "Tell me something I don't already know."

"Are you sure you don't work for the government?" I asked, frowning again.

"No. I was unemployed just yesterday. Would I dress like this if I worked for the government?" He tugged at his tattered shirt.

"You could be undercover. You certainly act like it."

"And how many undercover government employees have you met to compare my behaviour with?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes. "Point taken. Will you at least tell me why is it so important to keep this book away from people?"

"The same reason I swore you to secrecy about the others."

"You had nothing to do with giving this book to the library. That couldn't possibly land you in prison."

He sighed. "No, I mean the overall secret."

"What's that?"

"I think you can figure that out for yourself."

I set myself to do just that, reviewing the clues. Remus loaned me books on magic, which were a very great secret. He also went to Hogwarts. This book I carried in my satchel was about Hogwarts, and was also a very great secret.

"Is Hogwarts a school devoted to teaching about magic?" I asked.

"Yes," Remus replied.

"The overall secret is magic, then?"

"Basically."

"So why is it so important to keep this particular book out of circulation? It has very little to do with magic, as far as I could tell."

He sighed again and licked his lips. "What do you know about the Salem Witch Trials?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"I'm not evading your question, I assure you. I'm attempting to apply the Socratic method. I am a teacher, you know."

I rolled my eyes again. "The Salem Witch Trials occurred in the late 17th century in the American colony of Salem, Massachusetts. During this period of hysteria, many people were tortured and killed by self-righteous zealots who were trying to rid the world of witches because of some passages King James II had written into his translation of the Bible to promote the use of doctors rather than midwives by the people of England."

"Not that you're biased or anything," he said with a smirk.

"What makes you say that?" I asked, smiling.

"It's important to keep this book out of the hands of people in this town because Hogwarts is very near here."

"But the book is only about ghosts at Hogwarts. It doesn't say anything about teaching magic, or even magic in general. It doesn't even say where Hogwarts is."

"No, but it says that Hogwarts exists, and that is enough to arouse suspicion." He shrugged. "You tried to find out everything you could about Hogwarts after reading the book, didn't you?"

"Yes," I admitted. "But I am a special case."

"An extremely special case," he said, soothingly. "You are open-minded and have an abundant intellectual curiosity. You yearn to know for the sake of knowing and, as such, you aren't dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"There are others who would learn only for the purposes of seeking out and destroying. Suppose information about Hogwarts were to leak out. Such close-minded people might instigate a modern witch-hunt and, worst of all, they would be preying primarily on children. I for one cannot sit by and allow that to happen."

"No ... I cannot believe—the people of this town—Do you really think they would do that?"

He frowned. "Paranoia does strange things to people."

"But ... if they only knew ... I mean, the precept of Wicca is 'Do what you will, but harm none'."

"That is exactly the problem. They don't know, and they don't care to. Never underestimate ignorant people acting _en masse_." We were coming up to the boarding house at that point, and he stopped on the front lawn. "I think we delay the remainder of this conversation until we're in a more private setting. I believe you have some rooms to show me?"


	7. Damage Control

When we last left our heroine, Professor Lupin had agreed to move into Melinda's boarding house, but he had some conditions. Boy, did he ever! And the book with the Gryffindor House crest from Chapter II resurfaced. I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**VII: Damage Control**

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There were two rooms available on the ground floor, and I began my usual speech as we entered the first. "I've had lavatories installed in each of these rooms, since I personally despise the idea of communal baths, although there is one public WC on each floor."

He examined the door closely, then the window latches. "This will do."

"There's another room available on the next floor. Don't you want to look at that?" _It's closer to me_, I thought.

"No, no, this is fine," he replied, testing the bed. "Unless ... I don't mind taking a smaller room, since you won't be making any money off me."

"All the rooms are about the same size," I said, somewhat disappointed.

He looked adorably confused again. "Then—Oh! You'd like me to be closer to your ... penthouse?"

My cheeks burnt. "Only if that doesn't bother you," I answered quietly.

Remus smiled and shook his head. "Not at all," he replied.

When we'd climbed the next flight of stairs, he went through this same routine of examining the next room. The first floor windows had recently been opened to air the room, and he closed the window, then locked it. He tried to raise it and, seeming satisfied it was sturdy enough, turned to me.

"I don't suppose I could get bars installed on the windows? I'll cover the expense, of course."

"Bars on the windows?" I had thought before he might work for the government. Now I wasn't so sure he wasn't hiding from them. "Why?"

Remus took in my puzzled expression and nodded. After walking past me quickly and closing the door, he put his hands together in a prayerful gesture, raised his fingertips to his lips, and sighed.

"I'm not trying to annoy you or destroy your home, Melinda. I have reasons for everything I ask, even if I cannot explain them."

"Remus, are you hiding from someone?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Who?" I asked.

"Too many people to name," he said sadly, shaking his head.

I would have asked him to explain further, although I suspected that would do no good, when the oddest expression came over his face. He brushed past me to the chest of drawers by the window and retrieved something that looked like a piece of old-fashioned parchment paper with—unless I was very much mistaken—green writing on the front.

"What's that?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly, secreting the object somewhere in the folds of his coat.

"Remus, are you a spy?" I asked, my tone bordering on hysterical. I don't know what possessed me to say that, but he had a hearty laugh from my question.

"No, Melinda, I'm not a spy," he said, curbing his laughter to a beaming smile. "Although I daresay that's the most flattering accusation I've ever had hurled at me. Might I have a look at that card and telephone directory now? I have some work to do ... Oh, and may I borrow an ink pen and some paper?"

"Only if you'll let me help you," I said, defiantly.

His eyebrows rose, and then he frowned. "I welcome your help up to a point, but I have do most of this on my own."

"What are you going to do?"

"I have to find the people who've read _Hauntings of Hogwarts_ and ... talk to them. Feel them out, you know. See if they're any threat. I'd appreciate your help with the finding their addresses, but I must speak to them alone."

"All right," I said, pulling the book from my satchel. I also handed him a blank pad and pen before leaving to find the telephone directory. When I returned, I cleared my throat. "Might I offer a suggestion?"

"Certainly," he said, studying the card.

I closed the door behind me. "You'll want some new clothes first ... Not that I don't think you look devastatingly handsome just as you are."

"Thank you." He blushed and smiled as I sat next to him on the bed. "But you're quite right. I'm sure I'd look a fright to a stranger. Would you mind coming along tomorrow and helping me pick out something?"

"I'd be honoured," I said, brushing his hair off his forehead as I presented the telephone directory.

He pointed at the library card with the pen. "Can you make out this third name?"

"Mulroony Jenkins," I said. "The local chemist. Nice enough man, but he has dreadful penmanship."

Remus had copied all the names, leaving space to write in their addresses below. I, in turn, looked them up in the directory, and in no time we'd compiled the list. When he'd asked if I would help him pick out clothes tomorrow, I suspected there would be no further action on this quest tonight. My watch read a quarter of seven.

"It's almost dinner time," I said. "Are you hungry? Thankfully my kitchen staff cooks much better than Gladys Tucker."

"Is it time to show me off to the other tenants already?" he asked, sounding somewhat apprehensive.

"Yes," I said firmly. "So you'll want to look your best. I'll leave you alone to wash up." I ruffled his hair and gave him I quick peck on the cheek. Then I stood and started toward the door. "Oh, I just realised you don't have any of your things here yet. I suppose you'll have to come upstairs with me to wash up then. Or I can take you to pick them up now if you want? Your things, that is. We'll be a tad late for dinner, but I'm sure they'll be plenty to spare."

He shook his head. "Melinda, I don't want you to put yourself out on my account."

"Remus, it's no trouble, really."

"No, I'll bring my things back myself in the morning," he said, waving dismissively and rising. "So, it's upstairs with you then."

Remus washed for dinner as I waited on the sofa. When he joined me, hair freshly combed, he looked as smart as a ragged man could. From his expression, it seemed he would rather meet his new neighbours in the new clothes we would purchase the following day, but he carried himself with dignity nonetheless.

"I could have dinner brought up, if you prefer," I suggested.

His eyebrows rose. "Ashamed to be seen with me?"

"No!" I replied with a vehement shake of my head. "Not in the slightest. I've been seen with you the whole day, after all."

"Not in front of your tenants, though," he replied, with one of his eyebrows still raised.

"True..."

"If you'd be more comfortable, then by all means—"

"I'm not ashamed of you!" I snapped.

"I know you aren't," he said, before sitting beside me and kissing my temple. "But I am. I was only teasing you. Please have dinner brought up. That way we can do some work whilst we eat."

I rose automatically, but then stopped and asked, "What work? I thought you weren't going to do anything more about that book until tomorrow."

"That's correct, but I've been painfully lax in my other duties today."

"What other duties?"

"Your magic tutoring, of course."

"Oh, that! You know, with all we've done today, I'd quite forgotten."

I rang the kitchen, asking them to prepare two trays of food and send them in the dumbwaiter. Remus seemed fascinated with my use of the telephone, although he tried to hide the fact. Within five minutes, we were enjoying steak and kidney pudding with roast potatoes and talking about magical creatures. This seemed to be his main area of interest, and he spoke with a lovely light in his eyes.

For all his paranoia and the strange conditions he imposed on moving in, the impression I'd had of him so far was—even though he was not completely comfortable in his worn clothing—he was exceptionally comfortable in his own skin. I found this quality appealing, and I felt more comfortable when I was with him than I ever had in my life. Even more at ease than when I was alone. Having known him a grand total of twelve days, I was surprised when the thought that he could be a permanent fixture in my life occurred somewhere in the back of my mind.

From a young age, I had thought I would never marry. I'd had the typical fairy-tale dreams of meeting my knight in shining armour—who would carry me off to his castle—and living happily ever after with him. Of course, in my dreams, I would be able to perform magic, and my knightly husband would not only accept that but also encourage it. While Remus was no knight, he certainly encouraged my interest in magic. That, in and of itself, was enough to endear him. Although I didn't tell him for a while afterward, I fell in love with him that night, and I suspected he fell in love with me then, as well. We talked until after midnight, and I think we would have talked for much longer had we not already had a long day and much more to do the next.

"Are you going to stay here tonight?" I asked.

As soon as the words had left my mouth, I realised what they implied. I meant would he stay downstairs in his new room, although I blushed as I realised I wouldn't mind in the slightest if he wanted to spend the night in my bed. If he caught the latter possibility, he didn't show it. Ever the gentleman!

"No, I think I'll bid farewell to my old rooms," he said, rising. "I'll bring my belongings back first thing, and hopefully I'll miss the breakfast rush."

As I followed him toward the door, he again declined the offer of a ride. He then kissed me good night, and I clung to him for not nearly long enough. It probably was a full five minutes, but I highly suspected no amount of cuddling would ever be enough to satisfy me.

I woke the next morning at half-past seven, dressed quickly, and headed downstairs. Remus had said he would bring his belongings first thing. I had no idea what his concept of "first thing" might be; however, I was determined to anticipate his arrival. Once I'd walked into the downstairs kitchen to get a glass of orange juice, I passed the kitchen door, opened the cupboard, and pulled out a tumbler. When I closed the cupboard again, I started, nearly dropping the glass. Remus was in the yard, his back facing the door and dragging a large chest. He hadn't been there only a second before. The cook, who was already preparing breakfast, turned at my yelp.

"Are you all righ', Miss?" she asked.

"Yes, Martha, I'm fine," I said, a hand on my heaving chest.

"Who's 'at in the yard?"

"That's a new tenant: Professor Lupin." I set the tumbler on the counter. "I didn't see him there at first, and it startled me."

"He's a ragtag one, inut 'e?"

"Yes, he's had a rough life," I said sadly, nodding and heading toward the door. "But he's a very nice man." I opened the door and stepped outside. "Good morning, Remus."

He turned and smiled. "Good morning, Melinda." As I approached to embrace him, he nodded toward the door and added, "Your cook is watching."

"I don't particularly care," I said, before taking him in my arms and kissing him. When we parted, he bent to drag his chest again. "Leave that. I have someone take it upstairs for you."

"I'm perfectly capable," he protested.

"I know you are—you big strong man, you—but you've already lugged it far enough for today."

He laughed and put his arm around me.

"Come inside and let's have some breakfast before we go shopping." Inside, I introduced Remus to Martha and pulled two plates from the cupboard. "We'll be taking our breakfast in the kitchen, Martha. Coffee or tea, Remus?"

"Coffee, thank you," he said, sitting and watching me set the table.

As I fussed over him, he sat with his chin in his hand, a small grin on his face. I couldn't quite tell if the smile meant amusement or appreciation, but either was acceptable. My urge to protect him was almost immediate and very strong, and he endured my ministrations even if he didn't especially enjoy them. I imagined he felt the same sort of urge when it came to instructing me.

Martha gave us the first of the scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast, and took the remainder to the dining room. We ate quietly, smiling at one another a great deal between bites. I'm sure at that point anyone watching us would have had trouble keeping down his or her own breakfast, but thankfully we were alone in the kitchen. After we'd eaten, I saw to it that his trunk would be taken to his room, with the door securely locked behind it, and then we took my car to the local men's boutique.

As far as I could tell from the outfits I'd seen, Remus' taste in clothes wasn't bad, although the clothes themselves had seen better days. I'm convinced he didn't expect to need my help so much for my fashion sense as for other things he might not understand about the shopping process. That suspicion notwithstanding, he asked my opinion of almost every article of clothing he liked.

He narrowed his selection to three nice pairs of trousers and five shirts in a mix of patterns and solids and then went to try them on. When he emerged from the dressing room, looking especially smart, I completely forgot to breathe. The clothes were not fancy by any stretch of the imagination, but—without hanging threads and moth-eaten holes—he was transformed. Never had I seen anyone more handsome.

"I suppose clothes do make the man, after all," he said with a grin, taking in my expression.

I talked him out of buying more than one pair of trousers and one shirt for the moment. There was, I explained, no sense in spending money on garments he would most likely outgrow now he was eating regularly. He agreed and left the shop with an excess of £150 in the pocket of his new trousers. We then went back to the boarding house. After I made him promise to be careful, he assured me there was no need of worry. While he reiterated that he was indeed hiding from some people, he added that he was quite certain they were not actively seeking him at the moment. He then left to scour the town in search of people who'd read _Hauntings of Hogwarts_. I went upstairs to read his old school books, trying not to worry.


	8. Rare Allergies and Illnesses

When we last left our heroine, Professor Lupin had moved in and found a strange piece of parchment with green ink already in his room. Then, with a new set of clothes, he set off to locate the people who'd read _Hauntings of Hogwarts,_ and ... talk ... to them (yeah, right!) I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**VIII: Rare Allergies and Illnesses**

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Remus returned in time for dinner that night, saying everything had gone fine. It had taken him most of the day, but he'd managed to find all the people on his list. They were all very co-operative, he said, but I was relieved to have him safely back. When we went down to dinner—so I could introduce him to my other tenants—he took one look at the place settings and went pale.

"Remus, are you quite all right?" I asked.

"Yes, Melinda, I'm fine, but..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "May I speak with you alone?"

I nodded, and we went through to the kitchen. "What's wrong?"

He smiled rather a fake smile, and asked, "Do we always use fine silverware for dinner?"

"Not every night," I answered, shaking my head. "But we generally bring out the silver for a new boarder's first dinner."

"Oh," he said, smiling, seemingly reassured.

"Why?"

"Well, I have rather a rare allergy to silver. It's not life threatening or anything, but ... if I eat with silverware, my face puffs up to about three times its normal size. I can't even handle silver without my hands breaking out in a horrid rash."

"Oh, that sounds dreadful!" I gasped. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Don't trouble yourself," he said, patting my arm. "There's no way you could have known. Like I said, the condition is very rare."

"Well, we'll just get you some of the regular cutlery."

I rummaged into a drawer, pulling out the utensils, and we returned to the dining room. As I removed the silverware from his place and replaced it with stainless steel, Remus watched with anticipation. I could almost swear he was holding his breath. When I laid silverware on the sideboard, he sighed with relief.

I then introduced him to my other boarders: The McKenzie sisters, Mabel and Edith, two little old spinsters—eighty and eighty-two—who were permanent residents; Tom Porter, a younger man here for the spring and summer—a biology student studying the mating habits of owls; Geoffrey Kline, a veterinarian new to the area who was staying here until the house adjoining his surgery was finished; and Alice Wilkins, whom Remus immediately recognised as one of the local librarians, also a permanent resident. Everyone at the table smiled politely and said hello except for Miss Wilkins, who sniffed with disdain.

After a nice dinner, Remus and I adjourned upstairs. Now the book situation had been sorted out, we could begin my lessons in earnest. We went through the routine every day and night for a week: breakfast and lessons, followed by lunch and more lessons, then dinner and still more lessons. The after dinner lessons occasionally degenerated into more intimate conversations until the wee hours or snogging, although Remus unfortunately excused himself for bed before that ever got out of hand. After the first week, however, he began to excuse himself earlier and earlier every evening. I began to wonder if he was starting to tire of me.

The afternoon marking the end of his second week at the boarding house, he went to his room shortly after lunch, saying he didn't feel well. I brought a tray up to his room at dinner but received no answer to my knock. I thought he must be asleep, so I left the tray outside his door and went upstairs. When I came down the next morning, the tray was still there, but the food remained untouched. Again there was no answer when I knocked, so I assumed he was still asleep and took the dinner tray back downstairs. When he hadn't emerged by eleven, I went to check on him. I knocked on the door, and he answered in his robe—looking pale and shaken—with dark circles under his eyes. I heard myself gasp.

"Oh, you poor lamb!" I felt his forehead, and there was no fever. "Do you need a doctor?"

He shook his head. "I'm just a little tired," he said, taking my hand away from his head and kissing it. "No need to fuss."

"I don't think I'm being overly cautious this time, Remus. You look dreadful!"

"That's very reassuring, dear," he said sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest. "I daresay your bedside manner leaves something to be desired."

"You know what I mean."

He pulled me close. "I'm fine. I'm just tired. I think, after some breakfast and a little nap, I'll be right as rain."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he said, soothingly, and kissed my forehead. "We'll be back to your lessons after dinner, I promise."

"My lessons can wait, if you're ill."

"I'm feeling much better today. I just need some food and more rest."

"Are you strong enough to go downstairs, or would you like me to bring your breakfast up?"

"Would you?"

I nodded. "I'll be back shortly."

As he hobbled back to bed, I went downstairs and got a tray of breakfast, then came back up, intent on helping him eat if he needed that. After propping him up on his pillows, I felt his brow again and then set the tray in front of him.

"My temperature hasn't changed in the past five minutes."

"Do you need anything?" I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I need you to stop worrying," he said around a mouthful of poached egg.

I rolled my eyes. "Asking me not to breathe would do about as much good."

"That's what I thought," he answered with a resigned nod.

"Do you want anything from the chemist's?"

He nodded again, swallowing. "Tranquillisers, if you can get them."

"To help you sleep?"

"To help you calm down," he said, touching my nose playfully.

Once he'd goaded me into making a somewhat rude noise with my tongue, he smiled at his success in annoying me. I then pulled a chair to the side of the bed, watching him eat the remainder of his breakfast. After he'd finished, I fluffed his pillows and kissed his forehead after he lay back. I then packed his tray to take it back downstairs. When I was almost to the door, he called to me.

"Melinda?"

"Yes, Remus?"

"I'm fine. You don't have to worry."

"I hope you'll understand if I don't take you at your word until I see a little more colour in those cheeks."

"No, really, I'm ri—"

"Right as rain! Yes, I know. But—if you aren't better by tonight—I'm ringing the doctor." I pulled the door closed before he could object.

When I went upstairs to call him for dinner, a fully-dressed Remus met me at his door. He looked much better, though still a bit pale, and the circles under his eyes—although not completely gone—were at least lighter.

"How are feeling?" I asked, again checking his temperature.

"Much better," he said, pecking my cheek. "How was your day?"

"Horrible, for worrying about you."

Remus sighed and shook his head as he took my arm to escort me to dinner.

"I went to the chemist's anyhow, just to see if I could find something that matched your symptoms. Unfortunately, he couldn't recommend anything for pale, tired, and sarcastic."

He smiled.

"The funny thing is ... Mulroony Jenkins didn't seem to remember you."

His eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Didn't you talk to him about that book?"

"I thought I talked to everyone on the list," he said, brows knitted. "I must have missed him."

"As adamant as you were about tracking everyone down? I find that difficult to believe."

"Well, you know him. Does he seem the type to make trouble?"

"No, he doesn't, but..." Somehow, I thought he was letting this go all too easily, especially considering how frantic he'd been before. "The really strange thing is, he didn't remember the book, either."

Remus frowned. "How old is he?"

"Mid to late sixties, I imagine."

"He's probably getting senile," he replied with a dismissive wave.

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," I said, worried. "That could be bad for some of his customers."

"Why?"

"Well, if he's filling prescriptions and doesn't remember what to mix, he could kill someone."

"I'm sure he isn't that bad yet," Remus replied, shaking his head. "Just because he doesn't remember a nondescript stranger he's met once or a particular book about ghosts doesn't mean he's going to be poisoning people."

"You aren't nondescript!" I protested.

"Well, not to you perhaps," he replied, smiling, "but you are a touch biased, aren't you?"

After dinner, Remus felt equal to working, and so we decided to continue with my lessons, but only until he was tired. The feeling I'd had so often before—that he wasn't telling me something—seemed to occur much more often during our tutoring sessions. I trusted him completely in every other way, but when it came to his life before we met or my lessons, I always felt he was holding back. I hesitate to use such a strong term as lying; I felt certain, however, he was omitting a great deal. Often he seemed to mentally edit his statements.

Since most of the times this happened were associated with believing in the existence of magical beasts, I was convinced he did this for fear I would think he was insane. His noncommittal attitude often perplexed me. When we'd exhausted the topic of magical beasts—except for shape-shifters, which he decided to put off until a later date—we moved on to some books on Potions.

Remus would be the first to admit Potions was his worst subject. He had said he could never get used to the strong smells of ingredients. Rather than giving me misinformation, he attempt to explain everything he could, declining to answer my questions about things he didn't know well himself. After our conversation about the chemist and the book before dinner, however, I had a different idea for the direction of the evening's lesson.

"Remus, can I ask you something?"

"Hmmm?" he said, as he flipped through a book, looking for where we'd left off.

"When we were coming home from the library after getting that book, _Hauntings of Hogwarts_, and we were talking about magic being the overall secret?"

"Yes?" he asked, closing the Potions text with a finger marking his place.

"Well, I've been wondering ... Why try to repress information about magic at all?"

He removed his finger then and laid the book aside.

"It's not as if people don't know about magic," I added, "or witches and wizards."

"That's true. People do by and large know about magic and witches and wizards. Or they think they do."

"What do you mean they think they do?"

He raked a hand through his hair and seemed to be deep in thought for a moment before leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. "Melinda, do you trust me?" he asked, finally.

"What does that have to do with magic?" I asked.

"More than you'd think. So, do you?"

"Remus, I think you should know I do by now," I answered, staring at my lap, my tone gentle and quiet.

He turned his head to regard me over his shoulder. "Do you think I'm stable?"

I shrugged. "As stable as an unemployed Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor can be, I suppose."

"No, I don't mean financially stable. I mean mentally stable—sane."

"Aside from being a touch paranoid, I'd say yes."

"Right," he said, sitting back and turning toward me with glee written all over his face. "We've talked about the Salem Witch Trials before?"

"Yes."

"So, how many actually witches do you think were killed?"

"There were, I think, twenty-five deaths."

"But how many do you think were actually witches?"

I shrugged again. "Well, none, I'd imagine."

"That is absolutely correct, but not for the reason you'd think."

"What is the reason I'd think?" I asked.

He smiled. "Real witches don't exist?"

"All right, so that's what I'd think," I admitted, nodding. "What was the real reason?"

Remus shook his head. "No, I'm going to make you work a little harder than that. Now ... Imagine you're a witch. If someone accused you of performing witchcraft and sentenced you to hanging, what would you do?"

I shrugged once again. "I honestly don't know."

"Think about it. You're sitting in a cell, knowing you're going to be executed. What would you do?"

"I'd probably try to escape."

"That's what I'd do, too. But let's go back in time a little. What would you have done before that? To ... say ... prevent the accusation?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

He raised one eyebrow. "I thought you were stubborn. Don't give up so easily! Someone saw you doing something suspicious: brewing some malodorous concoction in a cauldron, talking to your cat more than normal, maybe even riding a broomstick ... What would you do?"

"Try to explain it away, I suppose," I answered with another shrug. "Make it look like something harmless."

"That's the coward's way out." Remus smiled wryly. "Besides, I'd like to see anyone explain away riding on a broomstick. That would be a laugh ... Come on, now! You're a witch. You have powers most people cannot even comprehend." He pointed to emphasise each word in his next question. "What. Would. You. Do?"

My brows knit. "Make them ... forget ... what they saw?"

Remus smiled. "Excellent. So, if there were real witches in Salem, Massachusetts in 1692, the reason none of them died in the Salem Witch Trials would be...?"

"Because the real witches would never let people remember the things they saw long enough to accuse them?"

"Precisely!"

This was the first time he didn't seem to be concerned about my thinking he was insane. A twinkle in his eye showed he was following my train of thought, but I'm not sure he would follow it as far as the next stop.

"I ... don't ... have to worry about the chemist poisoning people, do I? He isn't senile, is he?"

His eyes went wide, and then a smile spread slowly across his face. "Well, well. I'm impressed."

"What did you do to him?" I whispered, appalled.

"It's called a Memory Modification Charm, and it's fairly simple, although it requires concentration to extract only the memories you're interested in. If one gets distracted, one can cause total amnesia in the subject."

I was half mortified and half intrigued. If what Remus was saying was true, he could actually perform magic, instead of merely teaching about it. That would explain why I felt he was always holding back. He was worried I would think he was insane.

"Can you show me how it works?" I asked.

"That's probably not a good idea," he said, shaking his head, but wearing a small grin. "The problem is there's no way to put the memories back. I could make you forget something—like your dear departed aunt's name, for instance—only you'd forget it forever. I can show you something else, though." He pulled what looked like a conductor's baton from the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Is that a wand?" I asked naïvely.

"_Lumos_," he said, nodding slowly. The end of the wand burst into a bright light.

"Like a torch," I said, with something akin to an expression of awe. "Now, wait a moment! You could have got that at a novelty shop."

He nodded curtly. "That's what I thought you'd say. _Nox_." This last word extinguished the light, and Remus put the wand away. "But you can't very well say I got my hand at a novelty shop, can you?"

The next thing I knew, he extended his hand toward me, unfolding his fingers, and a small flame erupted from his palm.

I stared at him blankly with my jaw hanging open.


	9. Is She or Isn't She?

When we last left our heroine, Melinda had learned about Professor Lupin's silver allergy (cough!), and saw the aftermath of his transformtion for the first time. Then, to top it all off, he's shown her he can actually perform magic, much to her surprise. Please forgive the gushing ... This is my first story to pass the one page mark on reviews! Yippee! Thanks everyone!!! I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**IX: Is She or Isn't She?**

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"You're going to catch a fly in that mouth," Remus said with a smirk. With some effort, I forced my jaw closed and reached out to touch the fire. He suddenly jerked his arm and closed his fist, smothering the flame. "You'll hurt yourself!" he cried. "You don't want to get burnt. That's real fire, even though it won't hurt me."

"Can you teach me to do that?" I asked, taking his hand and examining his now empty palm.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "I can try, but I don't know if it'll work."

"Why not?"

"You're a Muggle, I'm afraid."

"A what?"

"A Muggle. That's what wizards and witches call non-magical people: Muggles."

"So that's why you were sniggering at the jeweller's name?"

"Yes, although it was rather childish of me, I'll admit. In my own defence, I must say I hadn't had a good laugh in months. I was overdue."

"Would you show me something else?" I asked, feeling not unlike a child on Christmas morning.

"Like what?" he asked with a shrug.

"Well ... what can you do?"

"I can Apparate and Disapparate—"

"What's that mean?"

"Appear and disappear as a means of travel. When you were worrying about my walking five miles to my home before, it wasn't necessary. I simply walked to the edge of town and Disapparated."

"What else can you do?"

"Loads of things. I can conjure objects, and I can turn objects into animals and back again—"

"Oh, I'd like to see that!"

Remus smiled. "Right." He reached behind him and he retrieved his Potions text, which he laid on the cushion between us whilst again pulling his wand. "What would you like? I'd recommend something fairly large but slow, so we don't have to be looking under furniture if it scurries off..."

"How about a sloth, then?"

"A sloth it is." He pointed his wand at the book and looked to be concentrating deeply. Next moment, his Potions text became a brown, three-toed tree sloth.

"Wow!" I breathed.

The sloth didn't look too happy about not being a book any longer, so Remus changed it back before it bit one of us. I smiled, amazed, but then I noticed he was rubbing his temples.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"I think I need to go to bed soon," he replied. "I'm still a bit weak."

"Do you need help downstairs?"

"No, I'll manage."

I walked him to the door and hugged him hard, saying, "Thank you, Remus."

"For what?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"For showing me real magic before I died."

"My pleasure, Melinda." He pecked my brow, running his hands through my hair. "How would you feel about a picnic lunch tomorrow?"

"If you're up to it, I think that would be nice."

"I'm sure I'll be feeling fine tomorrow. Besides, fresh air might do me some good."

He kissed me good night, and I closed the door behind him, shaking my head. Professor Remus J. Lupin was a wizard. I wasn't entirely sure how to process this new information. Intuitively I had known he was different. Somehow I'd sensed the difference and was drawn to him because of that, since I don't normally date unemployed men. But what to do with the information now I had it? After sitting on the edge of my bed with a cup of tea for half an hour, and coming up with no practical plan of action whatsoever, I chose in the end simply to be in awe of him.

This decision must have shown on my face the next morning. I know I gawped at Remus over my kippers more than normal in front of the other tenants, although I did not intend to stare. His cheeks wore a tinge of pink throughout breakfast. _At least he's no longer pale_, I thought. If the other boarders hadn't known of our mutual affection before that meal, they certainly did afterward. I wondered if Remus' blush was due, at least in part, to any suspicions the other tenants might have as to where he'd slept the night before.

After breakfast, I apologised profusely, and he told me yet again not to trouble myself. When I asked if we should perhaps take all our meals privately upstairs, he dismissed the idea, saying that would only arouse their suspicions more. I then asked if we should call off the picnic lunch, but he declined, adding there was something important he wanted to show me.

We concluded our morning lessons at half past eleven to pack the picnic basket. Whilst Remus made sandwiches, I wrapped some cheese, added some fruit to the basket, chose a nice bottle of red wine, and packed two glasses. We then headed down the back stairs to the car park, basked in tow, and Remus gave directions as I drove to a secluded spot on the edge of town. He couldn't have picked a nicer place for a picnic. The sun brightly reflected the emerald green of the grass on the rolling hills all around us. We spread a blanket on the ground and unpacked the basket.

"Almost perfect," Remus said, when lunch was set up. "There's only one thing missing."

"What?" I asked.

He looked cautiously in every direction. When he was convinced no one was watching, he pulled his wand. "_Florideous rosa_." A dozen long-stemmed red roses emerged from the tip of his wand. In one motion, he plucked the flowers and replaced his wand. He then presented the roses to me. "There you are, my love."

I beamed at him and smelled the flowers. Finally I realised what he'd said. "What did you call me?" I asked.

"I think you heard me," he said, smiling. His face turned serious as he caressed my cheek. "I love you, Melinda."

"I love you, Remus."

I touched my lips to his palm, and he drew me to him, kissing me passionately. When we were quite breathless, we decided to stop and have our lunch. After we'd both eaten our fill, he lay on his side on the blanket whilst we worked toward finishing the bottle of wine. As I refilled his glass, I was struck by something.

"You really look at home out here," I said, brushing his hair off his brow.

"What do you mean?" he asked, propping his head on his hand.

"I don't know how to explain it. You're an academic, right? But you look like you belong outdoors. Even though you are always a perfect gentleman, there is something about you that is ... positively wild. Untameable."

He smiled wanly.

I shook my head and added, "I don't know what to make of you half the time."

"And the other half?" he asked, tracing a finger around the rim of his glass.

"I wonder what you see in me," I muttered, my gaze falling to my lap.

"I couldn't have asked for a better segue," he said, before draining his glass. He sat up quickly, laying the wineglass aside, and crossed his legs. "Come sit in front of me."

I also upended and packed away my wineglass. "Are you going to show me that something important now?" I asked, crawling in front of him. I too sat cross-legged, facing him.

"Yes, but it's back there." He pointed behind me, and I turned around. "Do you see that hill in the distance?"

"Which one?"

Placing a hand on each of my cheeks, he turned my head. "That one," he whispered, lips directly on my ear, pointing over my shoulder.

"I see a hill. Why is that important?"

"This is where your incredible concentration comes in."

"I don't understand."

"There's something else there. I want you to concentrate on the top of the hill and tell me if you see any change."

"Are you quite serious?" I asked, turning to look at him over my shoulder.

"Yes," he answered firmly, although he was smiling.

I nodded, still somewhat confused, but determined to do as he asked because I did trust him. "All right."

I'm not sure how long I stared, but what seemed a short time later, the countryside began to blur, and a dark grey shape formed atop the hill.

"I see something," I whispered, surprised.

"What?" Remus asked. By now the grey shape was fully formed.

"A castle," I said.

"I knew you could see it if you tried," he said, sounding satisfied. "That's Hogwarts."

I turned back to face him. "Why wasn't it there before?" I asked.

"The castle's enchanted to keep Muggles away," he replied, wrapping his arms around me. "Most of the charms only muddle one's concentration—makes the castle look like a ruin with warning signs all over it. For some reason, the headmaster thought that alone wouldn't keep you away. I don't know why he should think that, though, since you aren't the least bit stubborn or anything."

I pinched his forearms.

"Ow! Well, anyway, he cast an extra spell to keep you from seeing it at all. Of course, I knew that shouldn't be any problem for you, because of your particular ... gift."

"So, that's where you went to school?" I asked, leaning against him.

"Yes. That's also where I taught Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Oh, you taught there, too! That must have been nice, teaching at your old school."

"I enjoyed it immensely." His tone sounded wistful.

"Why did you leave?"

He took a deep breath and sighed heavily. "That's a long story."

"I have time."

"I fear I don't have the inclination. Not today. I'm not feeling up to such a tale of woe."

"Tell me something nice about teaching there, then," I suggested.

"Now that I feel up to," he said. "Well, my first week of classes—I think I've mentioned Professor Snape before?" he asked.

"Perfectly dreadful man, although he is quite a potion-brewer?"

"That's the one," Remus answered, nodding. "Anyhow, the staff found a boggart in a wardrobe in the staffroom, and I asked the headmaster if I could give my third-years a chance to tackle it—"

"What's a boggart?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'd forgotten we put off shape-shifters. A boggart is a formless evil spirit that has the ability to become whatever scares someone the most, and he can only be destroyed with laughter. The trick is to perform the Ridicule Charm to transform the boggart into something less formidable—something that will hopefully make you laugh. Anyhow, this poor chap in the class, Neville Longbottom, was terrified of Professor Snape. When he pointed his wand and said the charm..." Remus began to chuckle.

"What?"

"Well, the boy imagined Snape in his grandmother's clothes ... at my suggestion, I'm afraid."

I smiled. "That does sound funny."

"It was hilarious. Imagine this tall thin man with a large, hooked nose, sallow skin, and greasy black shoulder-length hair ... in a laced-trimmed green dress, a witch's hat adorned with a stuffed vulture, and carrying a large red handbag."

"Oh my!" I said, giggling.

"Neville let out a huge whoop of laughter, and the boggart dissipated."

"Did Professor Snape find out?"

I felt him nod. "He was livid, of course. I maintained that I couldn't influence what frightened Neville. Then I less than politely suggested if he were nicer to his students, perhaps they wouldn't have to dress him in drag to get rid of boggarts."

"What scares you the most?" I asked, innocently.

Remus stiffened. "Why you do ask?"

"I'm just wondering what the boggart would turn into if it came at you."

"Well ... Now, I think it would become you walking out of my life forever."

"Oh, that's so sweet," I said, turning to kiss his cheek. "And that was just your first week, was it?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure you made quite an impression."

"You could say that." He pecked my cheek.

"Tell me some more ... Who was your favourite student?"

"Harry Potter. A very nice boy ... He's an orphan now. Lives with an aunt and uncle, I think. He's the son of two of my friends from school, but he impressed me quite a bit all on his own ... a great student and all around person."

"How did his parents die?"

"That's also a long, sad story."

"All right. Some other time. What other students did you like?"

"Well, there were Harry's friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger..."

He told me all about Harry and his friends then and his year teaching at Hogwarts. Again I had the feeling he wasn't telling me everything. I imagined it had something to do with his leaving—probably being sacked—so I didn't press the issue. The cheerful memories and the fresh air improved both his mood and his appearance so much, I didn't want to depress him or make him ill again by asking him to recount unpleasant experiences.

When the sun started to sink, I glanced at my watch and saw it was well past teatime, and dinner was rapidly approaching. We packed away the picnic basket and returned home, having no time for lessons before we went down to dinner. After dinner, Remus tried to show me some simple charms: the Illumination Charm he'd done the previous night, levitating small objects, and such. His wand sputtered and emitted some red sparks, but none of the charms worked for me. I was discouraged, but Remus told me I shouldn't be.

"A wand is a very personal thing," he said. "Mine doesn't seem to like you very much, although I cannot imagine why, and I certainly disagree."

"Or I'm just a hopeless Muggle," I said, deflating onto the sofa.

"Wouldn't make any difference to me if you were," he said, sitting and putting his arm around me.

"Why not? You have these great powers, and I ... I'm ... nothing."

"That's the woman I love you're talking about!" He pulled me tightly to his side. "Don't say such bad things about her, or I'll have to do something drastic!"

I smiled and laid my head on his shoulder. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime," he said, kissing my forehead. "I'll let you in on a little secret: I love you, not your powers."

"Or lack thereof? You're sweet, but doesn't it bother you? Being ... being with a Muggle?"

"Not in the least. I'm not a bigot."

I laughed at that, and he kissed me.

We did some more work and, when the hour grew late, I said I wanted him to stay. He looked torn, and I thought he'd politely decline. I added since everyone assumed we were sleeping together anyhow, we might as well enjoy the pleasures that gave rise to the gossip. He sighed and caressed my upper arms.

Much to my surprise, he accepted.


	10. The Truth, the Whole Truth & Nothing But...

When we last left our heroine, Professor Lupin showed Melinda some more magic, Hogwarts (a lot closer than you thought, wasn't it?), and ... well, I'd rather not say what else he showed her, since I'm a lady. ;-) I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**X: The Truth, the Whole Truth & Nothing But the Truth**

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Remus spent the night in my room every night for the next three weeks. I asked if he wanted to move his things upstairs, but he refused, claiming we needed to keep up the pretence at least of separate lodgings for the time being. When I offered him some of my uncle's old clothes that had been packed away in a trunk since he died seven years earlier, this he accepted.

I'd hesitated to offer him the clothes before for two reasons. First, he was still excessively thin, and I thought he'd feel worse wearing clothing that obviously bagged rather than wearing properly fitting clothes that were worn. Second, I considered offering him my uncle's clothes a commitment of sorts. Silly of me to think of it this way, I suppose, but they had belonged to family, and I didn't want to make him uneasy.

Aside from my continuing frustration at not being able to cast any spells with Remus' wand, I didn't think anything could cloud my happiness during those three weeks. My bubble burst, however, the next week. As he'd done a month earlier, Remus retired to his own room earlier in the evening every night for a week. After that week, he then went to bed after lunch feeling ill, only to rise late the next day, looking pale and sickly. Yet, after three more days, he was back to himself and again sharing my bed. This pattern was repeated for the next three months before I even became suspicious.

Remus often tries to make me out to seem cleverer than I am, but it was mere happenstance that I discovered his secret. When he fell ill the fourth time, I was alone in my room, feeling forlorn. I'd grown to love him so much since we'd met, and being without him even for a few hours was difficult. I found myself literally adrift in my apartment, forlorn, and I walked to the window to look out. As I pulled back the drapes, silvery light from the full moon spilled in from the window, and I stood admiring the view. The moon was so big and round and bright, just like the night we'd met. My eyes grew wide as it dawned on me: I'd heard a howl that night. A howl I tried to dismiss as that of a dog.

But that was no dog. It was Remus.

"How could I have been so stupid!" I snapped, pacing and wringing my hands. "A rare allergy to silver! That's a laugh! Of course he's allergic to silver! It's poisonous to—" I couldn't bring myself to say it, although I couldn't stop the thought.

_My boyfriend is a werewolf_.

I'd seen the B-grade movie _I Was A Teenage Werewolf_, as well as _Teen Wolf_, and I'd laughed heartily at both, but somehow they didn't seem funny any more. That was why Remus winced when I first said "werewolves" the second night in the library, and why he seemed uncomfortable when I'd asked if he'd ever come across one. "More or less" had been his answer—enigmatic at the time, but now it made perfect sense.

That also had to have been why he'd seemed so shocked after we'd kissed the second time, when I suggested he was afraid of turning into a wolf. He was terribly afraid of turning into a wolf, every month. I then remembered what he'd said when we first started discussing magical creatures: "Think of a werebeast as someone who is infected with cancer, but who has predictable periods of remission and relapse."

I had been shocked and angry, and a little scared, I must admit, but when I remembered this, my heart went out to him. He'd contracted a dread disease, through no fault of his own. In fact, he'd been violently attacked. Remus had been undressed in front of me often enough by that time that I'd noticed a proliferation of scar tissue on his chest. He'd claimed the family dog had mauled him when he was a child and, for the longest time, I'd thought nothing of that.

I felt a glimmer of hope when I remembered he said there were treatments for lycanthropy. At the time, he'd qualified that with "or so I've read." But now I was fairly sure he'd experienced those treatments first-hand. They must not keep him from transforming—that had to be why he'd asked me about pets before moving in—but they might make him less dangerous or even less contagious if he happened to bite someone. I wondered which it was.

I knew I wouldn't be able to discuss it with him that night—not at long as the moon was out. And I probably wouldn't be able to talk to him half the next day, either. But we needed to talk as soon as possible. I found some paper and scribbled a note:

  
__

Remus,

I know you aren't feeling well, but I really need to talk to you. This is important. Please come see me as soon as you are able. And remember, whatever else happens, I love you!

Melinda

  


I crept downstairs and slipped the note under his door. Then I wondered if he was even in there. When he'd asked about pets, I'd said they would make the other tenants nervous. He'd accepted this without complaint, so he must be Apparating out of his room before he transformed. Even though I had a spare key, I wouldn't invade his privacy. I'd given my word about that, but he never made me promise not to look through the keyhole.

_Silly boy_, I thought. _You should never underestimate a nosy woman!_ When I crouched down and peered through the hole, I could see the entire room, however, and there was no sign of him—lupine or otherwise.

I went back upstairs and tried to sleep. Since I was looking at the clock every few minutes to see if it was morning yet, I didn't have much success. Although I have no idea what time, I finally dropped off and, when I woke, it was full daylight. When I rolled over and looked at the clock, it said a quarter after ten. Then I heard a light tapping at the door. I rose and pulled on my robe, walked from the bedroom to answer the door, and brought Remus inside and over to the sofa. He sat clinging to me, almost as if he knew what was coming.

"I love you, Remus," I said softly.

"I love you, too, Melinda," he said, almost sobbing.

I stroked his hair. "Transforming takes a lot out of you, doesn't it?"

"Yes," he said automatically. He then jumped from the sofa as if I'd poured a cup of scalding tea in his lap, although I don't know where he found the energy. If possible, he looked even more pale, and his eyes were wide as saucers.

"It's all right," I said, soothingly. "Sit down. You need to rest."

"How—?" He swallowed hard. "How did you know?"

"I figured it out. And it doesn't matter. I love you anyway."

He took a step toward me, then stopped and shook his head. "Are you sure it doesn't matter?"

"You're ill, Remus, that's all. I won't turn you away because of something you cannot help."

He gaped at me for a moment before asking, "Do you really mean that?"

I stood and wrapped my arms about his waist, but for once, he didn't return my embrace.

"Of course I mean it!" I cried. "I love you, you dolt! I wouldn't abandon you if you got cancer, would I? Why would I over this?"

Remus collapsed into my arms. His shoulders shook as he sobbed violently, and he held me so tightly I had trouble breathing. When he'd had his cry out, I made him lie down with his head in my lap.

"Tell me how it happened," I said. "I want to know everything you've been avoiding telling me so far."

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" he asked. "Some of it is really bad."

"You told me you are a wizard, and I didn't send you packing. Now I've figured out you're a werewolf, and you're still lying here with your head in my lap. If you don't think you can trust me by now, I don't know what to say."

He winced again when I said the word, but then his cleared his throat when I'd finished.

"I was five when I was bitten. There was a hole in the fence of our backyard. My father had been meaning to fix it for months, but he'd never managed to get it done. My parents thought I was in bed, as I was supposed to be, but I was a troublemaker even at that age. It was summer, and I was a child. I wanted to play instead of sleep, so I'd crept outside.

"I was having a good time playing with my toy wand when I saw a large black figure pushing through the hole in the fence. Then it growled. I wanted to run back inside, but I was glued to the spot, trembling with fear. It started toward me, still growling, and when it broke into a run, I finally found my voice. The scream woke my parents, who came running downstairs.

"My father had a pure silver sword, which he'd grabbed on his way downstairs. There were quite a few werewolves in our area, you see, so he was paranoid of them. He stabbed the thing in the ribs and managed to get it off me. It ran away, yelping, but I was badly mauled. They took me to the hospital. I was so young and so gravely wounded, the doctors didn't think I'd survive ... Sometimes I wish I hadn't."

By this time, I was crying. "Don't say that."

"You don't know, Melinda. You don't know what it's like."

"That's why I want you to tell me."

"Everyone in the wizarding world shuns me. That's why I can't find work. No one wants to hire a werewolf."

"I wanted to hire you."

"You didn't know. You wouldn't have hired me if you had."

"No, I probably wouldn't have at the time," I admitted. "But that's neither here nor there now, is it? I wouldn't have had dinner with you then, either, and I've done that a great deal since, haven't I?"

Remus managed a chuckle at that. "My father blamed himself, as though it were his fault because he hadn't fixed the fence. Of course, people always blame themselves for things far out of their control. My mother was beside herself with grief for a year, just as if I'd died. She eventually snapped out of it, though. They locked me into the basement every month to transform, and for a while, no one knew. I was an only child, so they were overprotective as a rule, and I managed to lead a fairly normal life. But they also knew there was virtually no chance of my going to Hogwarts when I came of age. Then someone wonderful happened."

"What?" I asked.

"Albus Dumbledore became Headmaster of Hogwarts. I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. I'd just come downstairs for breakfast, and my parents were sitting at the table, crying. I thought someone had died, actually. When they showed me Dumbledore's letter, my legs fell out from under me. He said, as long as certain precautions were taken, I could attend Hogwarts starting that fall."

Remus then told me about the Shrieking Shack, the Whomping Willow, attending Hogwarts, and having real friends for the first time in his life. He talked for a while about James and Sirius, and the lengths they'd gone to for friendship, although he didn't mention their being unregistered Animagi was illegal. Nor did he mention their nicknames. As he spoke of James and Sirius, though, the same light shone from his eyes as when he talked about magical creatures, only more intensely. When he'd finished with their schooldays, he talked about Lord Voldemort's uprising and the Death Eaters, Peter Pettigrew's betrayal, James and Lily's deaths, Sirius' imprisonment, Voldemort's disappearance, Harry's scar and the fame he'd earned as "the boy who lived."

"After James died and Sirius was sent to Azkaban, I didn't have anyone to keep me from harming others when I transformed. I went to Germany because I'd heard there was a witch named Gisela who thought she had perfected a potion to keep werewolves tame when they transformed. Until I found her, I roamed the more deserted parts of the Black Forest during the full moon. I'm fairly sure I didn't hurt anyone, but it kills me to think I could have.

"Thankfully, when I found her, Gisela was more than willing to let me try her potion. She staked her life on the results, staying with me whilst I transformed. I don't think I was ever more frightened in my life. She sat next to me, stroking my fur all night, and I never so much as growled. I felt as if I'd just got out of prison. I lived there with her for almost twelve years."

"Was she pretty?" I asked, suddenly finding myself jealous.

"In a grandmotherly sort of way," Remus said, smiling. "She was over eighty."

"Oh," I said, giggling. "So, why did you leave Germany?"

"Well, I received a letter from Dumbledore saying Professor Snape was fairly certain he'd managed to duplicate Gisela's potion. If I was agreeable, he said he'd be pleased to offer me a position teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. He explained we could use the Shrieking Shack to test Snape's potion for my first transformation and, if it worked, I could lock myself into my office for the subsequent months."

"He sounds like a good man."

"One of the best. I owe him every happy moment of my life before I met you. He also stayed with me for my first transformation, although I wasn't nearly as afraid that time."

"You trusted Professor Snape to make the potion for you?"

"Yes. He's a very talented potion-brewer."

"But I thought you didn't like him?"

"I don't particularly like him. And he's nowhere near fond of me, either. He fought my appointment to Hogwarts vehemently, partly out of loathing for me personally, and partly out of concern for the students. But as much as I dislike him, I do trust him to prepare the potion. He's the last person who would want me to hurt someone ... Besides me, that is. And Dumbledore could have handled me if I'd attacked. He's one of the most powerful wizards living, if not the most powerful. It's rumoured he's the only wizard Voldemort ever feared."

After that, he talked about Sirius' escape from Azkaban, the dementors coming to Hogwarts, his private lessons training Harry to summon a Patronus, Sirius' breaking into the school, how he, Harry, Hermione, and Ron had learnt of Peter Pettigrew's betrayal, how Harry and Ron discovered he was a werewolf that night, his forgetting to take his potion, and how Sirius was still a wanted man because of his "defect." He also told me he resigned his position, although Professor Snape had still been supplying him with the potion regularly.

"I thought you'd been sacked," I said. "That's why I thought you didn't want to talk about it."

"Harry came to see me one last time after he'd heard I resigned," he said sadly. "I don't think he'll ever be able to forgive me. I know I didn't have anything to do with his losing his father, but I could have prevented his losing his godfather, as well."

"I'm sure he doesn't blame you," I said soothingly. "That would be like blaming you for forgetting your medicine and having a seizure. From everything you've told me about him, I'm sure he's wise enough to see it was an oversight. After all, you thought you were running off to protect him from a cold-blooded murderer, didn't you?"

"I know." He sighed. "But he didn't even shake my hand before I left. I suppose I was expecting too much to think we could still be close after everything that happened. He just looked and acted so much like James, I wanted to befriend him, naturally."

"It's almost like losing James all over again?"

He nodded. "Basically."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly." He sat up and put his arm around me.

"When you were bitten, you said you'd been mauled badly, but ... well ... Those scars don't look that bad."

"These scars on my chest are the only ones I'll ever have, since they are from the werewolf who infected me. The wounds were much worse than the scars appear. I'd lost a great deal of blood and nearly died. But the accelerating healing properties started to take effect as soon as the werewolf's saliva entered my bloodstream.

"Werewolves heal much more quickly than normal and without scarring, unless we are injured with silver, that is. Wounds from silver heal more slowly than normal, if at all, and scar badly." There was a pregnant pause, and I wondered if he was thinking about whether or not he should broach another taboo subject. I didn't have to wonder for long. "You'd never know from my forehead that I'd had a huge gash on it five months ago, would you?"

"When did you have a gash on your forehead?" I asked, astounded.

"After I jumped out of your car," he replied with shrug.

"You never jumped out of my car," I said, shaking my head. "I would have remembered that."

"You know that Memory Modification Charm we talked about?"

He then told me the real story of what happened after we'd come home from the jeweller's. My eyes grew wider and wider as he talked.

"You did that to me?!?" I practically screamed.

"It was necessary. You'd seen me heal far too rapidly, and I knew you were entirely too stubborn to let the matter drop. I had a concussion and broken ribs that day in addition to the cut, all of which simply ... went away. When I realised no one else had seen my injuries, or even knew I was here, I didn't let you go looking for aspirin.

"After my cut was gone, I removed the bandage and kissed you whilst pulling out my wand. I cast a charm to knock you out first. Then I laid you on the sofa, shoved the bandage in my pocket, wiped the afternoon from your memory, ripped the seam of your blouse, located the ice pack, and woke you up."

"I can't believe you did that to me! I feel so ... dirty ... now."

"I'm sorry, Melinda. I only did it once, and I swear I won't ever do it again."

"How can I believe you?"

He shrugged. "You'll just have to trust me, I suppose."

"Your track record isn't so good in that department," I said, pouting.

"Well, you got what you wanted anyhow," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "I moved in, didn't I?"

It was true. I had forced his hand.

"Why did you kiss me first?" I asked. "You could have just wiped pulling your wand from my memory as well, couldn't you?"

He smiled slyly. "I wanted to kiss you first."

"Oh." Damn him! He knew exactly what to say. He was instantly forgiven. "If you're so free with Memory Modification Charms, why didn't you cast them on the librarians so they'd forget we were noisy?"

"I'm not free with Memory Modification Charms. I use them only when I feel there is no alternative. And I wanted to be less than welcome in the library, as well," he added, shrugging.

"Why?"

"I was determined you'd have dinner with me, one way or another. Besides, I knew my chances of wooing you in a library were fairly slim. What could be less romantic than making eyes over dusty books and date stamp pads?"

I laughed and he smiled. "Where do you go to transform?"

"I've been going to the Shrieking Shack, actually, since Hogwarts is so close—" His eyes grew wide. "Wait! How did you know I left to transform? Did you go into my room?"

"I didn't hear any noises coming from your room ... And you never said I couldn't look in through the keyhole."

His eyebrows rose, but then he smiled.

"When you said you were hiding from too many people to name, you actually meant was—"

"I'm hiding from everyone in the world, at least one night out of every month."

I nodded slowly. After a long silence, I asked, "So ... what's it like being a werewolf?"

His expression turned stony, as if this were the stupidest question he'd ever encountered. "It's dreadful," he said, his voice dripping contempt. "Why do you ask?"

"It can't be too bad when you transform after taking the potion ... But the rest of the time—when you haven't transformed—what's it like?"

He smiled, shaking his head. "Well, I won't deny there are some interesting aspects. I never get ill, for one thing. I can abuse my body mercilessly for months on end without collapsing. No colds, no flu, and any injuries heal surprisingly rapidly. I have a cast-iron stomach, unless I ingest something that would make a dog ill. Then I'm in a terrible state. Even if I don't care for not being able to afford regular meals, I won't die from starvation.

"Not to mention heightened senses of smell and hearing. James and Sirius were particularly fond of my eavesdropping abilities at school. Not only did that allow me to hear conversations through closed doors, but it also facilitated our successfully locating all the secret passages of Hogwarts castle without the teachers' knowledge. The downside is dog whistles are intolerable."

I laughed again and pecked his cheek. "I only have one more question. Why did you insist on going to your own room for an entire week before the full moon?"

"Oh! Well I have to take the potion every day for a week prior to, and including, the night of the full moon. So I'd excuse myself, Apparate away, meet Snape, take my potion, and then come back and go to bed."

"Why not come to my room afterward?"

"In addition to tasting horrid, the potion smells awful. I wouldn't be able to hide the smell from you." He smiled. "You know, I feel so much better after telling you all this."

"I knew you would. Hiding your true self from those you love is hard."

"Well, it's not just that. I knew I couldn't hide these letters from you much longer." He pulled a sealed piece of parchment out of his robe, turning it back to front. "I've been getting them for a while, of course, but the latest one is for you." He handed me the letter, which was addressed in green ink, as follows:

  
__

Miss Melinda Rhoades  
c/o Professor Remus J. Lupin  
3rd Door on the Left of the 1st Floor Landing  
Boar's Glen Boarding House  
31 Callon Avenue  
Boar's Glen, England

  


"How—?" I asked, wide-eyed.

"How did he know the address so precisely? There is little Albus Dumbledore doesn't know, I imagine."


	11. So Help Me, Dog!

When we last left our heroine, she'd figured out Professor Lupin was a werewolf, and they had a much-needed heart-to-heart. To his surprise, she still loved him. And, to her surprise, he gave her a letter from Hogwarts. (As for the chapter title, I couldn't resist after the last one, but the dog part is a reference to Padfoot helping Moony deal with his transformations.) I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**XI: So Help Me, Dog!**

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I ripped open the letter.

  
__

Dear Miss Rhoades,

I have written to Professor Lupin, telling him I would eventually be writing you, as well. No doubt by now he has told you all about Hogwarts and the special charm I had to place on the castle to prevent you, in particular, from seeing it.

  


"What's this about a special charm?" I asked.

"Well," Remus replied, "I said before the castle was charmed against Muggles seeing it."

"Why did he need a special charm for me?"

"I would have thought that was obvious ... You aren't a Muggle."

"I'm not?"

"No, love, you aren't. It was still the same principle, although I knew your concentration would defeat it. But let's not tell the headmaster we know that. Agreed?"

I nodded, smiling, and continued reading.

  
__

I would like to see the two of you in my office at Hogwarts at your earliest convenience in order to discuss your belated admission. Enclosed is a list of supplies you will need, should you decide to enrol. Professor Lupin will, I'm sure, be kind enough to help you purchase these supplies.

I am looking forward to speaking to you both.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

  


"So," Remus asked when I'd finished, "do you want to go to Hogwarts?"

"Do I?" I asked. "Of course I want to go! I've been waiting to do something like this my entire life!"

He looked a touch wounded. "I'm not a good enough teacher for you, then?"

"Oh, Remus, you're an excellent teacher, but you know you can't teach me everything."

With a nod, he patted my leg. "Well, we'll need to go to London to buy your supplies."

"I suppose they have everything in London, then," I said, looking over the list.

"If one knows where to look," he said with a wry grin. "Do you want to talk to Dumbledore first, or go to London?"

"Let's talk to Dumbledore first," I said. "I think I'd very much like to meet him."

"You'll want lunch before we go."

"Yes, that's probably a good idea. I'm famished."

After dressing and going downstairs, we had a hasty lunch. I was disappointed when Remus told me we couldn't merely Apparate to Hogwarts, as I couldn't Apparate without a licence—besides not knowing how—and the charms on the school grounds prevented that. So we drove as far as we could without attracting too much attention and walked the remainder of the way. As we walked, he gave me some general information about the school, the professors, the classes, the grounds, and the Houses—mentioning that almost all those who embraced the Dark Arts were from Slytherin House.

We passed several students in the Entrance Hall, most of whom regarded Remus with fear. One boy, however—whose hair was so light blond it was almost silver, and whom two thuggish-looking boys flanked—openly sneered. Remus had explained werewolves were considered an abomination by wizarding folk, so I was prepared for adverse reactions. Despite this, I found myself badly wanting to slap the blond boy.

"Werewolves and Mudbloods," he drawled. "They'll let anyone in these days."

I shot him a murderous glare.

Headmaster Dumbledore's office was well hidden, but Remus seemed to know the way. We walked toward a stone gargoyle in the middle of a hallway, which Remus approached.

"Bubbling butterbeer," he said.

The gargoyle came to life and jumped aside, revealing a secret passage. Behind this was a spiral stone staircase that revolved slowly upward. Up the staircase we went, stopping outside a polished oak door with a large brass knocker. The door stood open, revealing a circular office. An old man with long silver hair, a long silver beard, and half-moon shaped spectacles sat at the desk within. When Remus knocked on the door, the headmaster looked up. At this point, I didn't know him well enough to read his expressions well, but he took in Remus' appearance with what looked like a twinge of alarm. Then his knitted brows relaxed.

"Ah, the moon was full last night, wasn't it?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered.

Dumbledore turned his gaze on me, then back to Remus. "I'm glad you've told her. That will make my explanations simpler."

"I didn't tell her, actually," Remus answered, after either coughing or clearing his throat. I'm not quite sure which. "She discovered it on her own."

"I thought as much," the headmaster said softly. I was about to ask him what he meant, when he stood and crossed the room, shaking Remus' hand warmly. "Apart from post-transformation exhaustion, you're looking well."

"Thank you, Albus," Remus said. "Melinda's been taking good care of me."

I smiled, thinking of how he always told me not to fuss.

"Any wedding plans in the near future?" the headmaster asked then, with a distinct twinkle in his eyes.

Remus and I both blushed and shrugged simultaneously.

"We haven't discussed marriage," Remus said, finally. I was a little saddened when he said this, almost as if he'd never considered the possibility. When he added, "We've had too many other topics to cover lately," my mood improved instantly.

"Well, Miss Rhoades," the headmaster continued, "I'm pleased to meet you finally."

"Likewise," I said, shaking his outstretched hand.

"Pray take a seat," Dumbledore said, ushering us both into chairs and seating himself behind the desk. "Remus has kept me apprised of your progress, Miss Rhoades, and I'm hoping you will seriously consider attending Hogwarts. I know you are somewhat ... older ... than the remainder of our students, but this need not affect your attendance."

"Can I ask you something, Headmaster?" I asked.

"You appear to be perfectly capable of doing so," he answered, and my eyebrows rose. "But if you have another question, I will answer it if I am able."

"If I'm a witch, why wasn't I asked to attend before, when I was the right age?"

"Yes, why wasn't she, Albus?" Remus asked, adorably puzzled.

"There are two reasons. First, I thought you might be able to accept Remus' ... condition ... better if you came to know about it from the viewpoint of a Muggle, since wizards and witches are a highly superstitious lot. You were Muggle-born, so you would have no such prejudices. In fact, Muggles tend to find lycanthropy fascinating, at least in theory. I think Remus can tell you the second reason."

"No, you have me at a loss, I'm afraid," Remus said, after a moment's thought accompanied by scratching his head.

Professor Dumbledore smiled slyly. "My dear boy, it would have been entirely too dangerous if I'd let this girl come to school with you at Hogwarts. I couldn't take that chance."

"You took every precaution you possibly could with me," Remus answered. "Why would Melinda's presence make me any more dangerous?"

"Think for a moment, Remus. You are thirty-six; she is thirty-two. You would have been a 5th year when she arrived."

Remus shrugged. "So?"

"Has love dulled your intellect?" The old man's eyes twinkled as Remus blushed. "She would have been eleven when she arrived ... still living with her parents ... And you were in possession of a rather interesting map..."

Remus gasped, his eyes growing wide. "You knew about the Maraud—"

The headmaster nodded. "I was quite impressed, as well. Have I mentioned that before? No, I suppose I haven't. Anyhow, there is little that goes on inside Hogwarts—or outside of it, for that matter—that I don't know about."

"I'm sorry, Albus," Remus said, hanging his head. "I betrayed your trust."

The old man turned toward me. "He's always been too hard on himself." When Remus looked surprised, Dumbledore continued. "If I thought there were any danger, I would have put a stop to your nocturnal wanderings. But I knew Padfoot and Prongs would keep you well in check."

"Then you know everything?" Remus asked.

"I do," Dumbledore replied.

"Are Padfoot and Prongs Sirius and James?" I asked.

Remus nodded. "Their monikers derived from the animals they became—Sirius was a grim, and James was a stag. My nickname was Moony, for obvious reasons."

"You were in good hands," Dumbledore continued. "And I placed a charm on the doors to keep the other students inside whilst you were outside. I knew your life in later years was going to be difficult enough, Remus. I had no wish to deny you as much enjoyment as you could possibly have during your childhood."

"I am eternally grateful, Albus ... But I still don't understand why it would have been dangerous for Melinda and I to be at school together."

"Then it appears yet again I know you better than you know yourself."

Remus thought for a moment, and then his jaw dropped. "Are you suggesting—?"

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "I am, Remus. They were hardly innocent, but I certainly didn't want to see you end up before the Committee."

"I'm afraid I don't follow," I interjected.

Remus turned to me. "He's saying, if we'd become close at school, eventually you would have confided your situation to me. And I, acting the part of the white knight, would have killed your abusive parents—in wolf form, of course."

"Without a moment's hesitation, I imagine," Dumbledore added. He then turned to me again. "Whatever he did as a wolf, however, he would be punished for as a man. An unfortunate situation, of course, but the world is full of unfortunate situations."

"Still, sixteen-year-old boys do not normally spend a great deal of time with eleven-year-old girls," Remus said. "How did you know she and I would even become close?"

"That was obvious. The same way I knew Lily and James were made for each other before I ever sent owls to them. And I was correct, because the two of you found one another anyhow. Each of you has been seeking the other since the moment you were born. And each of you resigned yourselves to spending your lives alone, didn't you? Lone wolves, if you'll pardon the expression." Dumbledore's smirk was nearly hidden under his beard.

"I think I will ... just this once," Remus said. "But why not simply cast a charm to keep us from noticing one another?"

"I fear that wouldn't work either," Dumbledore said. "There are only two things magic cannot conquer. One is death; the other is love." The headmaster turned back to me. "I hope you will forgive me, dear lady. Since I couldn't have the two of you here together, I had to choose one of you. I chose Remus because I knew his life would only become worse as the years wore on, whilst yours would only become better."

"Certainly I forgive you, Headmaster," I said. "You were only trying to protect Remus, as I have, and I expect it was a difficult decision to make."

The old man nodded. "One of the most agonising choices with which I've ever been confronted. I didn't want to see talents like either of yours wither on the vine. But, since you live so near Hogwarts, I see no reason why you cannot begin your studies immediately.

"I am bending a few rules, of course, to allow you to enrol, but as Remus here will tell you, I never mind bending the rules when the cause is good. In fact, I normally cannot resist." He chuckled quietly. "We are only two days into the new term, but you've already missed quite a few classes. Nevertheless, with Remus' help, I'm sure you'll be able to catch up. If I know Remus at all, I suspect you're already ahead of the other students. The only important thing you've missed is the Sorting Ceremony, but we can take care of that."

"The Sorting Ceremony?" I asked.

"To tell you which House you'll be in," Remus said.

"Just a formality," Dumbledore added, "since you won't be living in the Houses, and I doubt you'll be going in for the Quidditch team. But you need to be Sorted to determine your schedule, as all first-years in the same House take their classes together."

Remus and I stood as the headmaster walked across the room toward a battered old witch's hat sitting on a stool. When he touched the hat, it came to life. Two bumps on its surface blinked open into eyes and a tear above the brim cracked into a yawn.

"Is it that time again already?" the Hat asked sleepily. Then it suddenly looked alarmed. "I haven't prepared my song yet!"

"That's quite all right," Dumbledore assured. "This is a private audience. We have a straggler this year."

"Well, well," the Hat said, regarding me. "I'll just have to improvise." If the Sorting Hat had hands, I'm sure it would have been rubbing them together at this point. It cleared its ... throat ... and began to sing:

  
__

What's this that I behold?  
She looks a little old.  
Dumbledore's condoled,  
And he would not be consoled.

Your skills he has extolled.  
And now you've been cajoled  
To come into our fold.  
You've crossed the great threshold.

Your fate is not foretold  
But now that you've enrolled,  
Your mind must be patrolled  
That your future may unfold.

After I have trolled,  
Your head will I enfold,  
And at last you will be told  
To which House will you be doled.

  


"Very good," Dumbledore said, clapping politely and then lifting the Hat by its point.

"Thank you, Headmaster," the Hat replied. "I was a bit impressed myself."

"Now, Miss Rhoades," the old man continued, "if you will kindly sit here, we'll find out where you belong."

Remus watched expectantly as I settled on the stool and Dumbledore placed the Hat on my head.

"Hmmm," the Hat said. It sounded as if it were whispering in my ear. "Well, you have a lot of messy stuff in here. Something of a mire. Not as bad as some I've seen, but much worse than most."

_Tell me something I don't know_, I thought. _I've had to live in here for thirty-two years_.

"Quite right, quite right. Well, you've been through a lot, and that isn't going to change you know. Of course, I don't have to tell you that, either. After all, you're in love with a werewolf!" The Hat broke into a fit of laughter at its own joke.

_Um, whenever you're finished ridiculing my boyfriend, I'm ready to be Sorted._

"Oh, sorry about that. I don't get to converse with adults very often, you know. Well, you're a survivor, in more ways than one. You fit three of the four Houses down to the ground, you know. Courageous, loyal, clever ... but not ambitious at all. That's probably best, though. Remus would have a conniption if you ended up in Slytherin House, wouldn't he?"

_I imagine he would._

"I don't know. What do you think?" 

_Aren't you supposed to tell me? You are the Sorting Hat, aren't you?_

"If you get snippy with me, young lady, I'll put you in Slytherin!"

_Sorry._

"You wouldn't be at your best either if you were woken up from your nap three hundred and sixty-two days too early, you know."

_I said I was sorry._

"Oh ... Apology accepted, then ... Where would you like to go?"

_Personally I don't care, as long as it isn't Slytherin._

"Don't want to go into Gryffindor, since Remus was there?"

_Not if that isn't where I belong. I love Remus, but I wouldn't follow him off a cliff._

"Are you sure about that?"

_What?_

"I'm getting side-tracked again. I know you're brave because of that time you stood up to your father ... Only thirteen and you managed to hold off a grown man. Impressive."

_I did what I had to do._

"That's what they all say ... Oh, I think I've finally got it."

_Where?_

"No, 'What?' would be the correct question. In case this clinches it, I should probably tell you something first."

_What?_

"Keep in mind that as long as he's taking his potion, Remus will never hurt you."

_I know that._

"You may know that, but he doesn't."

_How do you know?_

"I was inside his head at one time, too. Now, pick a number between one and ten."

_Five._

"Damn! All right, it looks like you need to be in..."

_Yes?_

"GRYFFINDOR!" The Sorting Hat said the House name aloud.

"Finally," I said, taking the Hat off and rising. "I didn't think it was ever going to make up its mind."

"Some students are more challenging than others," Dumbledore said. As he laid the Hat on the stool, it began to snore softly. "I remember the Hat had a time with Harry Potter, too," the headmaster said, returning to his desk. "Of course, I think it was just teasing the boy." Dumbledore opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet of parchment. "Well ... He's your Gryffindor class schedule, and I suppose we'll see you first thing Monday morning, Miss Rhoades?"

"I suppose so," I said.

"Would you like to give her a tour?" Dumbledore asked, looking at Remus and smiling. Remus looked slightly alarmed at the suggestion, but the headmaster added, "As it is Saturday, most of the staff are in Hogsmeade, but those who remain know you have my full permission to be on the premises."

"In that case, it would be my honour," Remus answered, putting his hand to his chest and bowing slightly.

As we started out the door, Dumbledore called after us. "Just the standard corridors, if you please."

Remus grinned.


	12. School Supplies and Werewands

When we last left our heroine, she'd just found out she wasn't a Muggle after all, and—after finding out why she wasn't invited to Hogwarts as a child—had officially enrolled as an adult. So, now its off for a tour of Hogwarts and to Diagon Alley for school supplies. I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**XII: School Supplies and Werewands**

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"I can see why you like him," I said, as Remus led me out of the secret corridor to the headmaster's office.

"I don't like him," Remus replied, shaking his head ever so slightly.

I turned to face him, surprised. "You don't?"

He smiled. "I love that old man."

Now I shook my head. "You had me worried."

"I owe him my life in more ways than one," he continued, his expression becoming wistful. "And I'll never be able to repay him."

"I think the fact that you are still alive is all the payment he wants."

Remus stopped walking when I said that, and I spun to face him after two steps when I realised he was no longer beside me. He looked stunned.

"What?" I asked.

"You're right," he said, with a blank expression. "I've never thought about that before, but you're absolutely right."

I took his arm, and we continued down the corridor. "Remus?"

"Hmmm," he said, turning his head.

"May I call you 'Moony'?"

"If you like." He smiled and patted my hand where it rested on his arm.

Remus showed me all around the castle but—probably for the first time in his life—followed Dumbledore's instructions to the letter. This did not prevent him, however, from showing me where the secret passages were located, although we travelled through none of them. I was quite impressed with the castle. I met Nearly Headless Nick, and liked him a great deal, although I decided to call him Sir Nicholas. Luckily we managed to avoid Peeves. The moving portraits shocked me at first, but I grew accustomed to the idea. When we passed the Fat Lady, she inhaled sharply, sounding almost as if she were in pain.

"Why, bless my soul! If it isn't Remus Lupin!"

"Shhh," Remus said, putting a finger to his lips. "I don't want my condition to cause Melinda here any problems at school, so we're trying to keep a low profile. You know, incognito."

With this, the portrait swung open, revealing a passage behind it.

"Oops," Remus said, glancing at me with a shrug. "I guess 'incognito' is the password this week."

"Where does that lead?" I asked.

"Gryffindor Tower. Do you want to go in? You are a Gryffindor, after all."

I thought about that for a moment, but decided against it. "No, I wouldn't feel right. I'm not going to be living there. It'd be like invading the children's privacy."

Nodding, Remus closed the portrait hole, bidding farewell to the Fat Lady, and then we continued the tour. He showed me the Great Hall, where I'd be eating lunch at least, walked me past the dungeon, where I'd be having Potions class with Professor Snape, and pointed out some of the other classrooms. Our tour concluded with the Quidditch field and a stroll by the lake. Remus wanted to introduce me to Hagrid, but unfortunately the gamekeeper wasn't home, probably also in Hogsmeade. After that, we went to the Whomping Willow, and Remus showed me which knot to push.

"I thought Dumbledore said to stick to the standard passages," I protested.

"I'm sure he didn't mean this one," Remus said. "I think he considers this more or less my home, as I often still do. Besides, this is the easiest way to get to London."

I didn't understand how a supposedly haunted house in the middle of Hogsmeade would get us to London, but I imagined Remus knew whereof he spoke. Following the passage, we entered the Shrieking Shack. He conjured some wood and sticks for kindling, and proceeded to light a fire in the old hearth with his palm flame and an old issue of _The Daily Prophet_ that was lying around. When the fire was going strongly, he pulled a small pouch from his pocket.

"This is Floo powder," he said. "The fire will take us directly to Diagon Alley in London." He dusted the fire with the sparkling powder, and the flames turned green. Then, with an arm around my waist, he started toward the fire.

"I'm not going in there!" I said, pushing him away.

"It's perfectly safe," he said reassuringly.

"No!" I said, frantically.

"Don't you trust me?" The fear I felt must have translated to a look of pleading because Remus apparently decided to take a different approach. "Tell you what: I'll go first and come back to get you. That way you can see it's safe."

I nodded reluctantly.

He stepped into the fireplace, and calmly said, "Diagon Alley." He then began to spin and disappeared. The fire shortly returned to yellow. I couldn't believe my eyes, and I was half-tempted to stick my hand in the flames, in case this were some sort of illusion.

"Remus?" I asked timidly.

The flame then glowed green again, and Remus stepped back into the room, with a little soot on him, but looking otherwise normal.

"See?" he asked, brushing his sleeves. "Perfectly safe."

I grabbed him about the middle, burying my face in his chest.

"I didn't think I was gone long enough for you to have time to worry," he said, pecking my brow. "Clearly, I was wrong. Are you ready?"

"No," I said, giving him what I was sure was still a rather unnerved look.

"If it makes it any easier, close your eyes. I'll make sure we get out at the right place."

Against my better judgement, I closed my eyes and let him lead me into the fireplace. It was warm, but not overly so. When he said, "Diagon Alley," I felt something pulling my stomach and, the next thing I knew, he led me somewhere else.

"You can open your eyes now."

When I did, we were standing, covered in soot, on the hearthrug of a pub called The Dragon's Nest. Remus dusted me off and I in turn did the same for him. Once we were presentable, he asked where my shopping list was, and I pulled it from my pocket. We wandered out of the pub and down the street to Gringotts Bank to change my money, none of which I remembered to bring.

"Oh Remus!" I said, catching his arm before we entered the bank. "I haven't brought any money."

"Blast!" He began to dig in his pockets. "And I think I left mine in my other trousers."

"Is there an ATM around here anywhere?"

"A what?" he asked, brows knitted in his adorable fashion.

"It's a sort of ... Muggle money machine," I said, for lack of a better explanation.

"Oh, well I've never seen one, but if I take you to the Muggle part of London, do you think you can find one?"

I nodded slowly, trying to keep from smirking. "I think I can manage that."

He screwed up his face in a mildly patronising look, but then smiled and slung an arm about my shoulders. We walked on for a bit until we came to Knockturn Alley. He pulled his wand and studied the wall for a bit, apparently counting the bricks. When he'd located the one he wanted, he tapped the wall with his wand. The bricks trembled with a rumble, and a door opened in the wall. Our journey ended with stepping into a seedy-looking pub called The Leaky Cauldron. I clung to his arm as he walked me quickly through the pub and out the front door onto a fairly normal London street.

A few blocks later, I found an ATM and, within minutes, I was punching numbers and withdrawing money. After Remus showed me the wonders of Floo powder, it seemed only fitting I should show him the marvel of automated teller machines. Of course, he wasn't scared as I was, but I've never known anyone to be burnt by using an ATM. Robbed perhaps, but not burnt.

Once back in Diagon Alley, our first stop was the bank, where I changed my Muggle pounds into Galleons and Knuts. Remus had explained wizard money to me before, but today he added that he usually avoided Sickles because of the high silver content. As I had no wish to make him nervous, I decided to avoid Sickles as well.

Our next stop was to buy a wand. Remus recommended Ollivanders and, when I saw the sign over the door, the reason was obvious. It read: "Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." After the bell on the door tolled our entrance, a man with strangely silver eyes approached us from behind he counter.

"I haven't seen this one since he was a boy," he said.

"Hello, Mr Ollivander," Remus said fondly.

"And this must be your—er—wife?"

"Ah, no, just my girlfriend," Remus answered, only slightly pink this time.

I decided to let the "just" slide.

"Melinda, this is Mr Ollivander, one of the best wandmakers in the world. Mr Ollivander, this is Melinda Rhoades."

"You'll have to forgive me," Mr Ollivander said. "I thought you might be here to buy your oldest child a wand."

"No, we're here to buy a wand for me," I said, "since I'm starting Hogwarts on Monday." Seeing his puzzled expression, I added, "The headmaster gave me special permission to enrol so late. So, what should I look for in a good wand?"

"Oh well, actually, the wand picks the witch or wizard," Mr Ollivander said, pulling out a tape measure, which fluttered all around me, taking measurements all on its own.

"I told her that a wand is a personal thing," Remus chimed in.

"I tried to use his wand," I added, "but I couldn't get it to do anything."

Mr Ollivander clicked his tongue disapprovingly. At first I thought this was directed at my ineptitude, but it seems it wasn't. "For shame, for shame. Making the poor girl think she was a Muggle by giving her your wand."

Remus examined the ceiling whilst whistling, hands clasped behind his back, rocking up and down on the balls of his feet.

"What do you mean?" I asked the wandmaker whilst ignoring my boyfriend.

"You couldn't have got my wand to work no matter how powerful a witch you are," Remus interrupted.

"His wand was specially made for a—for someone with his condition." Mr Ollivander's voice dropped as he leant closer. "Dogwood and lycanthrope hair wrapped with wolfsbane petals in the core. It's a precaution so no one can steal his wand and use it on him when he's transformed. Anyone who could use it would also be transformed, you see? Well, except for an Animagus, but they are even more rare than lycanthropes."

"Oh," I said, and backhanded Remus across the chest. "You weasel!"

Remus' hands went immediately to his chest in mock offence, where he clasped my hand against him. "My dear, I believe I'm a little higher on the food chain than that. Besides, I was under orders. Dumbledore wanted to speak to us both before you found out you were a witch." A furtive wink and smile told me the day of the picnic was not to be mentioned here.

"I don't sell many 'werewands,' as I affectionately call them," Mr Ollivander continued, "but I like to keep a supply on hand."

Shortly, we set about the task of finding a wand that would chose me. Mr Ollivander tried several boxes and showed me a huge assortment. The final choice was fairly obvious, I thought. The lid was barely removed before the wand began to vibrate. When I picked it up, the wand felt as though it had always been a part of my hand. And, when I swished it, the room filled with a rainbow of sparkles.

"Excellent choice," Mr Ollivander chimed, beaming, and replaced the box lid. "Ten and three-eighths inches, ebony with four-leaf shamrocks and fairy dust. That makes sense. You have some Celtic blood, don't you, my dear? I don't know why I didn't notice before."

"And ebony to match your hair," Remus said, running a hand through said feature lovingly.

I paid for the wand and thanked the man before we left. Outside the shop, I mentioned I was surprised Mr Ollivander made 'werewands.' Remus explained the wandmaker's brother was also a lycanthrope—and had in fact supplied the hair for all the wands—so Mr Ollivander was highly sympathetic.

After that, we bought my books, my cauldron, my robes, various nasty looking things for Potions class, and other sundry items. I decided to pass on an animal for the time being. Remus and a cat certainly wouldn't mix, I don't care for rats or toads, and I doubted I would have any use for an owl or, if I did, the school owls would suffice. By the end of our afternoon of shopping, we were both hungry, having missed our tea. We decided to have something at The Dragon's Nest before starting back to the Shrieking Shack and home.

"Why does everyone you know keep asking if we are married, or if we have plans to marry?" I asked, when we had sat down to two pints of ale and sandwiches.

"I suppose they assume we're a bonded pair," Remus replied with an air of indifference.

"What does that mean?"

"You know ... mated." He slowly lowered his mug and, trying to be casual, glanced over the rim. "Wolves mate for life," he added with a shrug.

My heart leapt into my throat. This was the perfect opportunity for a proposal if he was going to make one. I looked at him expectantly, thinking, _Oh, please ask me! Please, please, please!_ Then my heart took a dive into my stomach and a chill washed over me from the inside out. What if he had a mate already? Someone he'd met when he was younger? Someone he no longer loved but couldn't leave because they were bound for life?

He searched my face. "What?"

"Nothing," I said finally, crestfallen, raising my mug to take a deep drink of my ale. "Nothing at all."

Shortly after that, we went home. Along the journey, he asked several times if I was all right, to which I always replied I was fine. Of course, the unspoken message was, "No, I'm not fine, you oblivious dolt! And if you loved me, you'd try a little harder to find out what's wrong!" Once we were home, he asked if I wanted to try my new wand, and I declined, opting to do some washing up in the kitchen instead and switching on the radio to drown the sounds of my crying.

During the first few months of our relationship, Remus had developed a passion for what he later called "Muggle music." I was initially surprised a man his age had never listened to the radio, but with all the other things he had no knowledge of, this made perfect sense. His musical tastes were as eclectic as my own, including everything from classical to heavy metal—although he couldn't abide Metallica's "Of Wolf And Man." I'd considered that one of their best songs, but I made the sacrifice for this man who had become my world.

Remus was especially fond of U2, Aerosmith, and the Beatles. As I worked, "Maybe I'm Amazed" came on the radio. I'd always loved that song, so I sang along. Sometime during my cleaning stint, I forgave Remus, so I was no longer crying. When I'd finished, I walked out of the kitchen to join him, drying my hands. He sat on the sofa looking dazed, and now he was crying. I put down the dishtowel and watched him until the song finished.

"Remus, what's wrong?" I asked, approaching and kneeling before him, hands on his knees.

"That song ... Was that the Beatles?" he asked, wiping his eyes.

"No, but it was Paul McCartney, after he'd left the Beatles, but before he formed Wings. I think he wrote it for his wife, Linda." I added the last statement as a hint.

"I think that is the most beautiful song I've ever heard."

"It's always been one of my favourites."

"That's exactly how I feel. I'm ... amazed ... that you love me."

"Oh, Remus," I said, going up on my knees and sliding my arms up his back. "That's just how I feel ... Maybe we should make that our song."

"Our song?"

"Some couples have a special song that expresses how they feel or something special about the night they met or the night they fell in love."

"Well, then we should make that our song." He held me tighter, then cleared his throat. "Melinda?"

"Yes?"

"Will you marry me?"

I practically screamed in my squeal of delight. "Yes, Remus!" 

"Just like that?" he asked, pulling back to look me in the eye. "You don't have to think about it?"

"No, I don't have to think about it," I answered, shaking my head adamantly. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life!"

After we'd kissed and held one another a bit, and I'd cried a great deal more, he said, "I was going to propose in the pub this afternoon, but you looked like a scared rabbit. I thought that was probably the wrong place to ask."

"I was sitting there thinking how much I hoped you'd ask," I confided. "Did I look scared? I suppose I was worried."

"You? No!" He winked.

"I starting thinking you had an estranged wife somewhere, and I couldn't compete because you were a bonded pair."

Now he shook his head. "No, there's no one else. I knew I wanted to marry you the first time I saw you. But, of course, dinner was prerequisite." He grinned, his eyes sparkling. "That's why I stayed so long the night we met. I simply couldn't leave without talking to you. I stayed much longer than I should have. Far too long. So long I'm sure you heard my howling after I transformed."

"I did, but I tried to make myself believe it was only a dog."

"I usually don't howl when I'm taking the Wolfsbane Potion, but I was just so happy, I couldn't help myself. I'd finally found my mate. You are my mate, and you always have been."

"Oh, Remus!" was all I could manage, throwing my arms around his neck. I started crying again.

"I guess we'll have to pick out an engagement ring now," he said, pulling back again and wiping my tears with his thumbs.

"If you want, but let's go to the other jeweller's. I don't think I can face Mr Huggle again."

He nodded. "That's fine. I haven't been working on my accent as I should."

The next morning, Remus moved his belongings upstairs.


	13. Potions and Peer Pressure

When we last left our heroine, she'd had a tour of the castle, bought her school supplies, and now they're engaged! (Sorry if chapter 12 was a little sappy, but I'm a sucker for romance.) I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**XIII: Potions and Peer Pressure**

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The only reservation I had about starting at Hogwarts was what would happen to my business in the meantime. The boarding house did practically run itself, but I liked to be around in case something happened. When Remus asked if I trusted him to look after things during the day, I was touched, and I took him up on his offer. Surprisingly, he proved to have as much a head for business as I had for magic. During my first term, when I'd come home from my classes, I'd ask him what he'd done during the day, and whatever decisions he made were as good, if not better, than what I would have done. After my first term, I no longer felt the need to ask.

When Monday morning rolled around, newly affianced and happy as a clam, I set out for my first day of school. At first, none of the other Hogwarts students quite knew what to think of me. Some assumed I was a new professor, although there were no vacancies left to be filled two days into term. They then realised I was a student, and I received every reaction from giggles to awe to gibes—mostly from the blond boy, Draco Malfoy, and his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, whom Remus and I had run into the previous Saturday.

The staff didn't seem to know what to make of me, either. The headmaster had told them all about my enrolment and, as far as I knew, there were no objections. I had no clue how much of the actual story Dumbledore had told them, but I assumed—from one Professor's reaction in particular—that Remus' name was never mentioned. The Professor in question was, of course, Severus Snape. Considering Snape's feelings about Remus, I hoped Malfoy wouldn't squeal. As Snape was the head of Slytherin House, and I'd divined Malfoy was a Slytherin, this fear hung over my head constantly. Not out of any fear for myself (the man could hate me all he wanted for all I cared), but for Remus' sake.

Surprisingly, Professor Snape didn't despise me, even though I was a Gryffindor. In fact, he rather seemed to like me, but I was certain this would change when he discovered I was engaged to Remus. I hoped I could keep my relationship with Remus secret indefinitely, as I would undoubtedly need Professor Snape's guidance in learning to prepare the Wolfsbane Potion my fiancé needed every full moon.

This was quite ambitious of me. If the Sorting Hat had known, I would have been made a Slytherin for sure, but I came up with the idea later. With careful study and love for motivation, I thought I might be able to accomplish that task. Of course, I neglected to tell Remus what I was planning. That was between the headmaster and me. Contingent upon my first term Potions marks, Dumbledore agreed to request Snape teach me to make the potion. I sincerely didn't want Remus to know, in case I turned out to be as bad as he in Potions class. As it happened, I was quite good.

In Potions class, I never held up my hand when Professor Snape asked a question but, when he called on me, without fail I had the correct answer at the ready. I assume this earned his respect, although not that of the students in his House. The Slytherins with whom we Gryffindors had Potions grew to actively dislike me quickly and began to circulate all manner of gossip as to why he seemed to favour me. The whispers only escalated as the term wore on, and began with a new fervour after the Christmas break when it was discovered Professor Snape had given me the highest marks on my exam that he had ever given a student. The most amusing of the rumours were that I was his long-lost sister, as we shared black hair and dark eyes, and—even more laughably—that I was his lover.

A little over one month into the beginning of my second term at Hogwarts, when Professor Snape asked to speak to me privately after Potions class, I thought little enough of the request. Slytherins scowled all around me, but I shrugged off their cold stares as I hefted my bag and followed him to the recessed room at the back of the dungeon that served as his office. I'd been in Snape's office many times during the previous term and had seen all his pickled animal bits, which he liked to show off entirely too much in my opinion. We'd even had some interesting conversations regarding potion ingredients and theories. I didn't consider him a friend or mentor by any stretch of the imagination, nor would I call him warm, but we shared a subdued mutual respect. I respected his knowledge of Potions, and he apparently respected my caring enough about his subject to put in extra work.

"I assume you've heard the rumours as to why I seem to favour you over other Potions students," he began, sitting as his desk and waving me into the chair opposite.

"Yes, I have," I replied, pulling my satchel into my lap as I sat. "Quite creative, some of them."

"Do they bother you?" His expression was unreadable—suspiciously so.

"I think I'm a little old to be bothered by the machinations of jealous schoolchildren, Professor Snape, " I said, dismissing the notion with a wave.

His mouth slowly curved into what I considered one of the few true smiles I've ever seen on the man's face. I began to think Remus had been wrong about him. Certainly he was exacting with the students. As far as I could tell, however, Potions was an exact science, and an extreme amount of precision was called for. I remembered many chemistry and mathematics instructors I'd had before who were just as stringent as he, and I'd enjoyed their classes all the more for their severity. All these thoughts went through my head in an instant and I decided, for the time being, to give Professor Snape the benefit of the doubt. I found myself returning his smile, without any hint of self-consciousness.

"Well, your final exam didn't help matters much," he said, with a peculiarly cheerful glint in his coal-black eyes, although his smile had vanished. "I went over your paper no less than ten times looking for trifles for which I could penalise you, and there were none to be found."

"You flatter me, sir."

"You'll find I never flatter anyone, Miss Rhoades. You appear to be the best Potions student who has ever entered my dungeon. So when I received a request from the headmaster to begin giving you extra instruction in preparing a ... difficult potion, I was pleased to accept the charge."

"What potion is that, sir?" I asked, trying not to sound as excited as I felt.

"I understand you have a family member who is a werewolf?" he asked, with an inquisitively raised eyebrow.

"Yes. A dear nephew," I said, repeating the lie I had pre-arranged with Dumbledore.

"And you are aware there is a potion that is an effective treatment?"

I nodded. "Unfortunately, there aren't many wizards who can prepare the Wolfsbane Potion."

"Well, you happen to be taking Potions from one who can," Snape said, looking rather smug. "Rarely after one term do I have such confidence in a student, but you have proven yourself quite exceptional. I believe first-year Gryffindors have Thursday afternoons free, so I will expect you here every Thursday at one without fail. We'll see what we can do for your nephew." He then scribbled something on a scrap of parchment, which he handed to me.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," I said, accepting the note and rising.

With a nod and jerk of his head toward the office door, he indicated I was dismissed. Outside the dungeon, I glanced at the piece of parchment. It was a pass for the library's restricted section. Apparently, Professor Snape expected my previous example of outside of class preparation to continue. Nodding with satisfaction, I realised his confidence was genuine. Then I realised I was late. I had to run to make my next class: Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. She shot me a stern look over her square spectacles when I showed up one minute after the bell and asked to speak to me after class, as well.

After class, I explained important business with Professor Snape, at the headmaster's request, kept me. Even when I showed her the library pass Snape had given me, she looked doubtful, although I wasn't sure if it was my tardiness or a Gryffindor having more than the usual dealings with Snape that concerned her. I had the impression that, if Dumbledore confirmed my story, I'd be off the hook. Of course, I knew he would, so I sighed and headed off for Charms with Professor Flitwick. After that it was time for lunch, and then I went to the library to make ready for my first private session with Professor Snape before heading home.

"You're the new girl?"

I don't know how long I'd been engrossed in restricted Potions texts when he spoke, although my stomach grumbled mercilessly. As I looked up, I saw three students, about sixteen, looking down at me. The one who spoke was a boy with unkempt black hair, piercing green eyes, and a lightening-shaped scar on his forehead. Hovering behind him were a lanky, redheaded boy and an intelligent-looking girl with bushy brown hair.

I smiled. "Well, I haven't been a girl for a while, I'm afraid, but yes. I'm Melinda Rhoades. You must be Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger?"

They nodded.

"Moony has told me some wonderful things about the three of you."

"You know Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, his eyes growing wide.

"I would hope so," I said, giggling. "We are engaged, after all."

"B-b-but—" Hermione stammered.

"Yes, Hermione, I know he's a werewolf."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Ron asked.

"Funny, I wouldn't have pegged you as a bigot, Ron," I said, "since your best friends are a Muggle-raised boy and a Muggle-born girl." Ron flushed a deep crimson, and Hermione sported a satisfied grin. "As long as Remus takes the Wolfsbane Potion, he's perfectly safe. Professor Snape is still graciously supplying it to him for now, but as Potions seems to be my best subject, I think I may be able to take over eventually. That would be nice, since it would allow us a little more freedom. We wouldn't be tied to coming back to Hogwarts for a week of every month. And Professor Snape will be kindly giving me extra instruction on the preparation of that particular potion at the headmaster's request."

Harry looked dubious. "Kindly? We can't be talking about the same Professor Snape?"

"I know there's no love lost between the two of you, Harry, but Professor Snape is not an evil man, despite what you may think. He will always come through in a pinch. And I'm sure he doesn't want Remus to hurt anyone any more than Remus wants that."

The boy looked sullen after my rebuff.

"I'm sorry, Harry," I said, quickly. "I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's okay," he said with a wave that reminded me of Remus. "How is he?"

"He's fine."

"Will you send him my best?" Hermione elbowed him, and he added, "Our best?"

"I can do better than that," I answered, smiling. "Would you like to see him? We can meet you in the Shrieking Shack." Ron looked uncertain until I added, "The full moon is still ten days away."

"How do you know that off the top of your head?" he asked incredulously.

"Are you serious, Ron? We make our every plan by the lunar calendar."

"That would be nice," Harry said. "When?"

"Tonight? Say, eightish?" I asked, and three teenaged heads nodded.

Remus was thrilled they wanted to see him, although he was fidgety with nerves. He'd explained the events leading up to Sirius' escape from the dementors at Hogwarts, and he still felt terrible about that night. If he'd remembered his potion, Sirius would be a free man now. In addition, he could have bitten any one of the children, which is why he felt compelled to resign. Padfoot didn't hold a grudge, he knew—after all he'd since agreed be the best man at our wedding—but Remus wasn't so sure Harry could forgive him, and he didn't think Ron could ever forgive him just for being a werewolf at all.

We made the Whomping Willow by a quarter of eight, prodded the knot, and continued down the passage to the Shrieking Shack, waiting patiently for the children to arrive. I waited patiently, that is. Remus paced—stirring small clouds of dust with his feet—until I was weary merely from watching him. When the door opened, apparently by itself, I was startled.

"I thought you said this place wasn't haunted," I whispered.

"It isn't," Remus answered, pointing toward the door. "Watch."

Three teenagers appeared in front of us, growing from their feet up as they lifted what looked like liquid silver off their collective heads. Much to Remus' relief, Harry came forward and embraced him. Hermione shook his hand warmly, but Ron hung back, looking hesitant.

"He has a sickness, Ron," I said gently, "nothing more." The boy started when I added, "And it isn't catching."

Ron stepped forward, slowly extending his hand, which Remus shook.

"It's nice to see you all again," Remus said.

Harry beamed a great smile. "How have you been?"

"I've had some rough spots, but my life couldn't be better now. Did Melinda tell you we're engaged?" They nodded as Remus sat next to me on the bed, putting his arm around me. The children sat cross-legged on the floor. "We're trying to keep that a secret, from Professor Snape at least for the time being, so mum's the word, eh?" They nodded again. "And you're all invited to the wedding, of course. Last Saturday in August at two o'clock in Boar's Point. It's not too far from Hogsmeade. I'll send you maps by owl."

Harry sniggered at that.

"Am I missing something?" I asked.

"Professor Lupin, or should I say Mr Moony, is very good at cartography," Harry said.

Remus smiled. "Do you have it with you, Harry?"

"How do you think we got out of the castle tonight?" Harry stood, pulling an old piece of parchment out of his robes, which he handed to me.

"It doesn't look like a map," I said.

"Well, looks can be deceiving," Remus said with a smirk.

"How does it work?" I asked.

Ron smiled. "You tap it with your wand and say, 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good'."

"The Marauder's Map will accept almost any phrase," Remus explained, "as long as you vow to do something untoward. In fact, you only need say two words, in either order. The only problem is vocabulary. It only recognises English, although we programmed it with as many synonyms for an oath and troublemaking as we could find. Went through every thesaurus in the library."

"You're kidding, right?" I asked.

Remus shook his head. "No, that's how it works. Now, watch carefully." He tapped the parchment with his wand. "Ne'er-do-well ... promise." Writing suddenly spread all over the parchment from the point his wand had touched outward. In addition, small dots with names above them wandered about the page.

"That's incredible! You did this as a child?"

"Sixteen, but yes. The tricky part is clearing it. Only one phrase works for that."

"How?"

"You want to show her, Harry?"

Harry smiled and tapped the parchment with his wand. "Mischief managed." The writing cleared immediately.

"Why would you make so many phrases for activating it," I asked, "but only one for clearing it?"

"That was our way of getting unworthy people in trouble," Remus said.

"Moony, now that's just mean," I said.

"I know," Remus said, sighing. "My conscience was a tad underdeveloped when I was younger." He turned back toward the children. "By the way, I was sorry to hear about Cedric Diggory—poor boy. And Mad-Eye Moody. If he weren't paranoid enough before, being locked in his own trunk all that time must have driven him over the edge." They nodded solemnly, but then Ron sniggered at which Remus raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Well, at least one good thing came of it," Ron said, his eyes full of mischievous glee. "Crouch turned Draco Malfoy into an albino ferret and bounced him all over."

"Oh!" Remus gasped. "I would have loved to have seen that!"

"Remus!" I admonished.

"She only calls me 'Remus' when I'm in trouble," he explained to the children. Then he turned to me. "Draco Malfoy is a spoiled little git! A complete waste of space," he grumbled.

"Well, I can't say I completely disagree, but you used to be a teacher. You shouldn't speak badly of a student in front of other students."

"What if I say something nice about him to recompense?" he asked with a wry grin. "Would that satisfy you?"

I nodded slowly. "It might, at that."

He thought for a moment, then smiled. "There is one quality I admire more in Draco Malfoy than in any other Hogwarts student."

"What?" the remainder of us asked, with varying degrees of surprise.

"His absence," Remus said, turning toward me with a wide grin. Harry, Hermione and Ron tittered, but I glared.

"Remus!"

"All right, all right. What if I say something nice about these three instead?"

"It couldn't hurt," I replied with a shrug and a sigh.

"Well, let's start with Harry. The great Harry Potter—'the boy who lived.' He's famous, you know. But what I like most about Harry has nothing to do with his fame. He's practical, wise, and brave. And one excellent Seeker, just like his father."

Harry beamed.

"Hermione Granger ... Well, Hermione's the one who found me out."

Remus smiled, but Hermione stared at her lap, blushing. She apparently saw this as a backhanded compliment, at best.

"She's quite clever, Melinda," Remus added. "Reminds me of you, actually."

Only then did Hermione smile.

"And Ron..."

Ron looked up with fear in his eyes, as if he were about to be judged harshly.

"Ron Weasley has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met. I know them fairly well so I can say without hesitation he gets that from his parents. I imagine he's capable of forgiving anyone their trespasses ... as long as he knows they are truly sorry."

Gulping, Ron wiped his eyes. He then nodded and Remus smiled, his eyes a bit misty as well.

"Well, you three should probably be getting back before you're missed," Remus said. "We'll talk more later, I promise."

They rose and said good-bye.

"Oh, and Harry?" Remus said, when they were preparing to crawl back under Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

"Yes, Professor Lupin?" Harry asked.

"All of you, please—call me Remus now, or Moony. Your choice. Harry, Sirius is planning to be my best man—in disguise, of course—so you might want to make a point to attend the wedding."

"I was going to make every effort anyhow," Harry said, smiling, "but now I'm certain I'll be there."


	14. Pot Meets Kettle

When we last left our heroine, she'd met Harry, Ron and Hermione, and both Harry and Ron had forgiven Professor Lupin for his offenses, perceived and otherwise. I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**XIV: Pot Meets Kettle**

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After our first clandestine meeting in the Shrieking Shack, the children began inviting me to have tea with them regularly in the Gryffindor common room. I suppose I was allowed before, since I was also a Gryffindor, but I didn't completely feel I had the right, since I didn't live in the Tower. We talked a great deal about the practical aspects of living with a werewolf, although I made certain they understood I wanted to keep my attempts of producing the Wolfsbane Potion secret from Remus and our relationship hidden from Professor Snape. Ron and Harry seemed to grow quite fond of me; Hermione, on the other hand, grew less friendly with each passing tea.

"I think Hermione doesn't like me very much," I mentioned one evening whilst Remus was helping me with some of my homework. Defence Against the Dark Arts was my worst subject by far, but thankfully my fiancé was a tremendous help. 

"What makes you think that?" he asked.

"She's distant at best and often curt with me for no reason at worst."

"Perhaps she envies your high marks in Potions. I know I do. You seem to be the only Gryffindor Snape has ever even tolerated."

"No, I don't think that's it," I said distractedly. When I glanced at him, he was wearing the look of his that said there was something he wasn't telling me. "Remus?" My tone reminded him we'd promised to have no more secrets now that we were engaged—even though I was brazenly violating this myself—and he smiled.

"Well, I've always thought Hermione had a bit of a crush on me. I assume that was why she put so much effort into finding out about my mysterious illness. But..."

"But what?" I prompted.

Remus sighed quietly. "I'm surprised she'd continue to harbour such feelings after she'd learnt the truth, or that she covered up for me afterward."

I shrugged. "She's Muggle-born too, isn't she? Like Dumbledore said, we don't have the same prejudices purebloods have."

He frowned. "Don't say that."

"What?" I asked.

"Purebloods."

"Why? Is it bad?"

"Not in and of itself, I suppose," he answered with a shrug. "But that's how the whole Voldemort thing got started—the purebloods against the Mudbloods."

Now I frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"The ironic thing is, there were rumours that Voldemort himself was of mixed parentage."

"Sounds like Hitler," I said sadly.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

By now I was used to Remus' not knowing about Muggle history, so I explained without a second thought. "Hitler was a dictator who came to power in Germany in the late 1920s, I believe. He began to extol racial purity, saying the ideal German would be a blond-haired, blue-eyed German, and he proceeded to remove the 'inferior' groups of people from Germany in order to build his master Aryan race. But Hitler himself was brown-haired and brown-eyed, and he wasn't even a German. He was Austrian."

"He does sound like Voldemort, then."

Remus frowned, staring down at the book in his lap. I could tell he was thinking about James, Lily and Sirius now, so I attempted to lighten his mood.

"I can't say I blame Hermione, though," I said, brushing his hair back from his forehead and planting a light kiss. "You are simply too dashing to ignore."

He smiled and hugged me. "Thanks. I needed that."

"Anytime, Moony. Do you think Hermione will ever warm up to me?"

"I'm sure she will. You trouble yourself too much over little things, Wart."

My eyes widened. "What did you call me?"

He smiled again, this time mischievously. "I called you 'Wart.' I'm trying out a new nickname. Do you like it?"

I shook my head. "Not particularly. Why 'Wart'? Because all witches are supposed to have warts?"

"No, 'Wart' as in 'worrywart.' I think it fits you."

I smiled. "Oh. In that case, I'll try not to be too offended."

Our picnic the previous May confirmed Remus' confidence in my concentration ability was well founded. Because of this, my Charms class was a cinch—now I had a wand that would work for me. Remus started teaching me some more complex charms, such as Summoning, and this I found very useful, especially when we couldn't find the remote for the telly. A simple "_Accio_ remote control," and the remote flew to me from wherever it was. Unfortunately, summoning was too messy for bringing the tea tray, and I learned this lesson the hard way. Remus then taught me how to clean up the spills, and I was happy again, although I still had to remake the tea. Since he'd shown me how to conjure boiling water, however, that was no longer a hardship either.

In the meantime, my private Potions tutoring with Professor Snape went very well. When I showed up for the first Thursday afternoon session, I found him with a special cauldron set up in his office. I felt I was fully prepared, having read everything the restricted section contained on the Wolfsbane Potion. Snape wasted no time asking me what the ingredients were, and I rattled off a list without consulting my notes. A small smile showed he was impressed.

"At first, you will merely watch me," he said, unlocking a cupboard and removing the components, "since I already have to prepare this for someone else. I happen to know a werewolf in the area."

"You do?" I asked, trying to sound innocently surprised.

"Indeed. A ... former ... staff member."

He said the "former" with so much exultation I suddenly wanted to slap him, since I know he had done his best to get Remus dismissed. This Thursday—in addition to being Remus' birthday—was a week before the full moon, so I already knew he would be taking this very potion starting tonight. I tried to keep my expression sufficiently blank, but when Snape turned around, he regarded me curiously. One eyebrow went up. I hoped I hadn't inadvertently let something slip.

"You can't see from back there," he said, with a sneering grin. "Come a little closer. I assure you I won't bite."

Laughing at my silliness, I shook my head and set down my satchel before I approached the cauldron. I had been hanging suspiciously back at the office door, I suppose—not because I was afraid of Professor Snape, but because I imagined personal hygiene wasn't his long suit. He didn't smell anywhere near as badly as it appeared he would. From that greasy mane of his, I expected he hadn't had a bath in weeks, but his scent was more antiseptic than repulsive. In fact, it reminded of most of the chemistry masters I'd known. I suddenly wondered if he'd put a special oil on his hair on purpose. It could serve as some natural protection against noxious potion fumes, to keep him from passing out, or even to prevent his hair from falling out. I made a mental note to look this up later.

I watched carefully as Snape minced some fresh wolfsbane petals. He then told me stir the mixture whilst he added many other ingredients until the potion was smoking.

"When the cauldron smokes, you can be fairly certain you've got it right," he said with an almost genuine smile. He then began to ladle some of the potion into a goblet. "Would you care to stay and meet our test subject?" 

"Thank you, no, Professor. I have some heavy Transfiguration homework tonight."

"I suppose you'll meet him soon enough."

From his expression, he didn't appear to suspect I knew the subject already. He nodded, dismissing me, so I retrieved my bag and left. Not surprisingly, Remus wasn't home when I arrived, although he Apparated in a few minutes later, after I'd finished changing into a less fetid set of robes in the bedroom.

"Just seen Snape?" I asked as he walked over to kiss me.

Remus nodded then stopped, apparently remembering his breath was probably awful. He turned to go brush his teeth, but I snagged his arm.

"I might as well get used to it," I said, pulling him to me and kissing him.

Almost immediately, I pushed him away, wiping my mouth. His kiss tasted like mud flavoured with sweaty socks and stinkbugs, and with just a hint of liquorice. Unfortunately, I can't stand the taste of liquorice any more than mud, sweaty socks, or stinkbugs.

"I warned you," he said, now going to the loo.

Luckily his nose was too full of the potion already to notice the smell lingered in my hair as well as the robes I'd wrapped in plastic and hidden in the bottom of the closet. Whilst he was in the loo, I grabbed a box with two new sets of robes I'd bought in Diagon Alley as a surprise for his birthday. I then laid these out on the bed and joined him.

"You must really hate being a werewolf to drink that stuff," I said, leaning over him as he rinsed his mouth, kissing his shoulder.

He looked up and smiled at me in the mirror. Then he stood upright and turned in one motion, drawing me to him as he leant against the sink.

"Now, where were we?"

He kissed me—slowly and deeply, and for a gloriously long time.

"Much better," I said. "You'd best change for dinner." I took his hand and led him back into the bedroom.

"Are we dining downstairs tonight?" he asked. He then saw the robes. "Melinda, you shouldn't have!"

I shrugged. "Why not? It is your birthday, after all."

He smiled, shaking his head. "I haven't got such a nice birthday present in ... well, I don't remember how long. But you really shouldn't have."

"Do you like them?"

"I love them."

"Then I should have. I told Ron, Harry and Hermione we'd meet them in Hogsmeade for dinner at seven, so you need to hurry. Don't worry," I said, raising a hand as I took in his anxious expression. "I cleared it with the headmaster."

He smiled. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"I think I have a pretty good idea," I said, smiling and nodding.

Dumbledore had seen to having my sitting room fireplace added to the Wizarding network to expedite my travel to and from school. Once Remus had changed (he let me choose which one of his new robes he would wear), a little Floo powder later we were sitting at a table inside The Three Broomsticks, waiting for the children to arrive. They stepped from the fireplace shortly, accompanied by Professor McGonagall. I wondered if she was planning to chaperone during our meal until she smiled and waved, mouthing "Happy Birthday, Remus," before going back inside the fireplace.

"She saw us together. What are we going to do?" I asked in a whisper, concerned, as Harry, Ron and Hermione started toward our table.

"We can trust her," Remus replied, also whispering. "She won't tell Snape. Don't worry, Wart."

I smiled as he touched my nose playfully. Suddenly I understood why he'd picked that particular nickname. Harry, Ron and Hermione all sat, pulling packages from their robes. They giggled whilst Remus unwrapped the presents. He looked puzzled with the first, frowned with the second, and positively scowled by the third. They'd got him a collar, a lead, and flea shampoo.

"Very funny," he said, folding his arms over his chest.

"I thought 'thank you' was the traditional answer," I said.

And, on cue, the children all said, "You're welcome, Moony!" in unison.

"Don't blame them," I said, ruffling, then smoothing, his hair. "The gag gifts were my idea, but they also chipped in on that new set of robes you're wearing."

He smiled then, and we ordered our dinner. I watched Hermione carefully during the evening, and I was convinced Remus was correct about her crush. But I hoped she'd learn to like me when she realised I made him happy. At half past ten, Professor McGonagall returned to collect the children. Remus hugged them all in turn, thanking them for the best birthday he could remember in a long time. After that, we went home.

The next Thursday afternoon, which was the day of full moon, Professor Snape again demonstrated preparing the Wolfsbane Potion. And again, when he asked if I wanted to meet the subject, I declined the offer with the excuse of homework. But this time, he would not be dissuaded.

"I insist you see why this potion is necessary," he said firmly.

I felt myself going pale. Had Malfoy told him about seeing me with Remus? Was this his cowardly way of confronting me with the knowledge? Or was he so sadistic he merely enjoyed watching me squirm?

"I've already seen ... my nephew's transformation," I replied, barely audibly.

"It's more gruesome in an adult. I think you should know what you are dealing with. If you manage to prepare this potion successfully, you will have to deal with these monsters on a regular basis. They will seek you out. There is no way to avoid them."

I flinched when he said "monsters," and again I wanted to slap him. Remus was no monster, but Snape would never see it that way.

"Will you meet me back here at seven?" He asked this in a calm, quiet voice, but I knew it was no request. Then he dismissed me.

I immediately went home to warn Remus, but he wasn't home. I searched everywhere, asking everyone at the boarding house, but no one had seen him for hours. So I waited, but he didn't come home. When I ran out of time, I went back to the dungeon to meet Professor Snape. He waited with a smoking goblet in his hand, and I followed him out of the dungeon, through the entrance hall, down the steps, and out of the castle toward the Whomping Willow. I remembered to act surprised when he prodded the knot at the base with a stick.

"Where does this go?" I asked as he led me into the passage and down the slope.

"The Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade."

We entered the shack and climbed the stairs. My legs were trembling. I didn't want Remus to find out this way.

"Will you hurry along?" Snape snapped, his robes billowing in his wake.

I tried to walk faster, but my legs didn't want to co-operate. When we entered the room at the top of the stairs, Remus waited there, sitting on the bed. He looked at Snape, past him toward me, and then back to Snape. Anger flared in his eyes.

"I see you know each other," Snape said, with a satisfied air.

Malfoy had told him, the little rat! Strangely, Snape never turned back to look at me. Remus said nothing. I knew he wouldn't want to give Snape that satisfaction. He took the goblet and downed the potion in one gulp in his anger. He then handed the empty goblet back to Snape and flopped on the bed.

"No doubt the two of you have much to discuss," Snape said smoothly, finally turning to look at me. I was understandably distressed at Remus' anger, so I'm sure Snape suspected nothing.

"Remus, I can explain," I said, starting toward him after I heard the downstairs door close.

"I don't want to hear it."

"Remus, please!" I begged him with my eyes.

"No more secrets, remember? You made me promise, but I suppose you're above that, aren't you?"

"Remus—"

"Get out of my sight!" he growled, sitting up.

"Will you please hear me out?"

"Will—you—please—leave?!?" he shouted. "And you can consider our engagement off!"

"I thought we were mated for life—"

"We may be bonded, but that doesn't mean I have to marry you! It doesn't even mean I have to look at you if I don't want to! And I certainly don't want to at the moment!"

My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe he'd just said that. His expression was implacable, angrier than I'd ever seen him. I sadly tossed some Floo powder in the flames and went home. That night, Remus didn't come home at all, even after the moon went down. I know because I waited up until six to see if he would. There was no moon by then, but there was also no Remus. I imagined he'd stayed in the Shrieking Shack all night.

I fell into bed and cried myself to sleep. When I woke, it was nearly noon. I decided missing one day of classes wasn't going to kill me. After all, I was an adult, and my Professors would most likely take me at my word if I said I was ill. I was heading to the kitchen to make some tea when I saw Remus sitting, pale and still looking angry, on the sofa.

"I'm sorry, Moony," I said weakly.

He started in again immediately. "After all the times you've lectured me for being dishonest or even evasive—"

"I was trying to protect you from disappointment in case I couldn't prepare the potion."

"Mr Kettle," he said bitterly, pointing to himself, then added, pointing at me, "meet Miss Pot." Remus then put a hand to his ear and said, "What? What's that you say? I'm black?" He glared at me, folding his arms over his chest.

"I didn't want you to have false hopes."

His face softened then, and he rose to embrace me. "Oh, Melinda." He kissed my brow. "I'm sorry, too. Your heart was in the right place, after all. And I overreacted. I'll admit I was jealous knowing you were spending time with Snape."

"You don't honestly believe you'd ever lose me to ... that ... do you?"

He sighed, caressing my arms. "No, I suppose not."

"What was he trying to accomplish, do you think?"

"To hurt me, that's all. He'd mentioned he was having a student help him prepare Wolfsbane Potion. I should have known it was you."

Snape's reaction—not looking at me—suddenly came back to me. "He was trying to hurt you, but I don't think in the way you suspect."

"What do you mean?"

"He wasn't trying to make you jealous by knowing we were spending time together. The headmaster and I told him my nephew ... Moony, he thought I didn't know you were a werewolf!"

Remus eyes widened and then he smiled. "So now we just have to pretend we've broken up until you've mastered the potion."

"Do you really think he'd be petty enough to stop teaching me just because—?"

"Yes, I think he would. I believe he enjoys having power over me. Your mastering the potion would rob him of that power."


	15. Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!

When we last left our heroine, she and Harry, Ron and Hermione gave Professor Lupin some new robes for his birthday, along with some other gifts. Professor Snape made certain Remus knew Melinda was helping prepare the Wolfsbane Potion. They had their first lover's row over that, but thankfully made up. (If you thought Snape was bad in the last chapter...) I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**XV: Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!**

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The next time I saw Professor Snape was Monday morning in Potions class, and he again wanted to speak to me after class. This time, however, he said only that we had too much to discuss and he feared I would be regrettably late to Transfiguration if we attempted to cover it all between classes. In lieu of that, he asked that I meet him immediately following lunch. Again, I had the distinct impression this request was more of a command. As I walked to the dungeon after lunch, I knew I was about to undertake the dramatic performance of a lifetime.

"You weren't ill Friday, were you?" he asked, closing his office door. His face was expressionless, but his eyes betrayed his anticipation of my answer.

"Unless heartsick counts," I said feebly.

He studied my face for a moment. "I think we can forego detention for truancy, under the circumstances. I imagine it was quite a blow about your friend."

"Yes," I said, sighing loudly and sinking into a chair. "It's one thing when it's a family member, but..." Then I thought, _It wouldn't have been such a blow if you hadn't engineered the axe falling, would it_?

"It was bad of me to spring it on you like that," he continued, as if reading my mind, "but I thought you needed to know." Snape gave my shoulder a quick and awkward consoling pat before walking behind his desk and sitting.

"I appreciate that, sir. I probably wouldn't have believed you if you'd merely told me." I stared at my lap, looking morose, but I smiled inwardly, hardly believing my luck. Just as Remus and I expected, Snape assumed this revelation would certainly have ended our relationship. But we had already been down that road, and our love survived unscathed. The daft git bought it hook, line and sinker!

"That's what I suspected," he said in what I'm sure was supposed to be an attempt at a sympathetic tone. Instead it sounded sadly ingratiating. "You've known Lupin how long?"

I made my bottom lip quiver slightly. "It would have been a year in April."

Snape closed his eyes and nodded.

"He seemed so ... normal," I said, shrugging. That was a blatant lie, of course, but I thought I carried it off exceptionally well. I'd known Remus was different to every man I'd ever met from the first moment, but in a good way, unlike present company. The nicest thing I could say about Professor Snape's oddities was they weren't contagious.

"They always do," Snape said. "And people are drawn to them. That's the wolf—the animal magnetism. Wolves are beautiful animals. One would never know by looking how very dangerous they can be." That was a loaded statement if I ever heard one. He spoke almost as if he envied that quality, as if his life would be so much more pleasant had he beauty to mask the hazards he presented.

"What do you mean, sir?" I asked.

"Only that Lupin appears a particularly meek sheep, considering the wolf within. You'd never suspect—from the mild, handsome face or the genteel manner—that he conspired to murder me when we were at school together."

"What?" I whispered in disbelief. I was no longer acting. I was horrified. Remus had clearly forgotten to tell me something yet again, and this time is was earth shattering.

"Our fifth year at Hogwarts," Snape continued. "Originally his friend Sirius Black's idea. I was ... understandably curious ... as to where Lupin disappeared to every month. One night I'd seen him being smuggled out of the castle at dusk. Black caught me spying and told me, if I wanted to know where Lupin went, the answer lay at the base of the Whomping Willow. All I had to do was push a knot on the trunk with a long stick. The branches would seize, and I could get inside a tunnel. Lupin was at the end of the tunnel, Black had said.

"So I waited until full darkness and stole out of the castle, making my way to the tree. I found the knot and followed the passage as we did last Thursday. Within seconds of entering the tunnel, I heard a menacing growl emanating from the upstairs bedroom and caught a glimpse of the monster Lupin had become. If I hadn't been dragged free at the last minute, I would be dead—the ultimate butt of Black and Lupin's joke."

I didn't know what to say. Either he was baiting me, in which case he didn't believe that Remus and I had truly parted ways, or ... what he said was true. If that was the case, he didn't take me to the Shrieking Shack the previous Thursday night to hurt Remus, but rather to protect me from him. Furthermore, he had every reason to hate Remus.

The proverbial rug had just been pulled out from under me. I rested my elbows on the edge of the desk and buried my face in my hands. My stomach churned as though I were going to vomit, and my chest tightened until I couldn't breathe. A chill overtook my entire body, and I shook uncontrollably. Something warm then wrapped around me. Professor Snape had covered me with his cloak because I was shivering.

"Thank you." Once my teeth stopped chattering, I asked, "Who pulled you out of the tunnel?"

"That's not important," Snape replied, resuming his seat. "The point is, that would-be murderer fooled you as he fooled me, and as he fooled Dumbledore into believing he was safe enough to employ. A tame werewolf," he sneered. "Even with Wolfsbane Potion I've prepared myself, I don't entirely trust him to control the monster within ... Do you know why he's pale and tired the morning following the full moon?"

I shrugged, wondering how Snape knew Remus' condition the following day. "Exhaustion from his transformation?"

"If I were teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, you would know this. The pallor and fatigue are caused by anaemia. Werewolves become anaemic if they do not taste fresh blood during the full moon. I expect he would be back to normal in three or four days?"

"Yes."

Snape nodded in a self-satisfied way. "After that amount of time, his human blood producing mechanisms could repair the damage caused by the lupine aspect."

"If he was pale and tired, though, that is a good thing, isn't it? It means he didn't kill any—thing—the night before." My entire body went numb as I tried to remember if Remus had ever not been pale and tired the morning after the full moon.

"Yes," Snape replied, his lip curling, "but that would hardly make him something I would want to keep as a pet." I was aghast that he would say something so unfeeling, and he could tell from my expression he was out of line. "Forgive me. That was uncalled for," he added softly. "You're still having trouble accepting that Lupin is capable of killing someone?"

"Frankly I am, Professor Snape."

"I know you cared about him—"

"I still do."

"—but I know you must also see the truth in what I've told you." When I didn't answer immediately, he leant forward, hands clasped together on the desk. "Might I ask you to consider something, Miss Rhoades?"

I nodded.

"Have you ever known me to lie to you?"

"No, sir," I admitted.

"Have you ever known Lupin to lie to you?"

"Yes." _Frequently_, I thought.

Snape arched an eyebrow as if to say, "You have your answer." He then sighed and leant back, studying my face. "You don't look equal to class. Would you like me to excuse you for the rest of the day?"

I nodded, standing. As Remus was certain to be home, I didn't relish the thought of going there, but I really had no where else I could go, and I didn't want to think about class. Snape put an arm about my shoulders and led me toward the hearth, saying he would contact Hagrid and Professor Sprout about my absence. He then threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace to send me home. When I emerged from my sitting room fireplace, I didn't see Remus. I'd planned on going straight to bed and was well on the way when he emerged from the kitchen.

"I thought I heard you come in," Remus said, smiling. His expression then became concerned. "Are you all right, Wart? You don't look well."

"I don't feel well," I said, brushing past him into the bedroom. "I've been sent home sick." With that, I went straight to bed still in my robes, hiding under the covers and trying to drive the troubling thoughts about Remus being an accomplice to attempted murder out of my head. I must have dozed off because the next time I looked at the clock, it was after four. A short while later, I woke again to Remus sitting beside me on the bed, caressing my face.

"Do you want some tea, sleepyhead?" he asked.

"No, I want to be left alone," I grumbled, rolling away from him.

He leant against the headboard in a huff. "Aren't we surly today?" 

"You'd be surly, too, if you had the talk with Snape that I had."

"Oh, that's the trouble," he said, rubbing my back through the comforter. I took all the determination I had not to recoil. "Did he lecture you about consorting with werewolves?"

"Not exactly."

"What then?"

I bit my lip. "He lectured me about consorting with attempted murderers."

Remus said nothing, but his sharp intake of breath indicated he knew exactly to what I was referring.

"Funny, all those times you told me Snape hated you, you never said why. Now I understand why you failed to mention it."

"He hated me before that," Remus said weakly. "He wanted to know where I went every month because he wanted to get me expelled."

"That's no reason to kill him!" I shouted, sitting up and throwing off the covers.

"I didn't want to kill him," Remus said, shaking his head frantically. He looked on the verge of tears. "I didn't want to kill anybody. I've never wanted to hurt anyone. I didn't know what Sirius was planning! I was furious with him, and so was the headmaster. But Dumbledore couldn't expel Sirius without revealing my secret. So he swore Snape to silence and made Sirius do the worst detentions he could devise every day for the rest of term and all of our sixth year. Snape always hated James, Sirius and me. That night merely added fuel to the fire. It's hard to say whom he hated most, though—me for being a werewolf, Sirius for putting him in harm's way, or James for rescuing him."

"James rescued him?"

"Yes," Remus said, looking confused. "Sirius bragged to James what he'd done, and James only just got Snape out of the tunnel before I pounced. He didn't mention that?"

"He said someone pulled him free, but he didn't say who."

"That's why James didn't get in trouble. The headmaster knew he wouldn't have saved Snape if he'd been in on it. And Dumbledore knew hurting someone was the last thing I wanted to do. I would have told him directly if I knew Sirius was planning to send Snape to the Shrieking Shack. I would never have let it go that far. I would have made certain Snape never got out of the castle. My God! What kind of a monster do you think I am?"

"A werewolf," I whispered without thinking.

I'd never seen Remus angrier than the previous Thursday night, and I've never seen him more devastated than after that remark. He looked at me as if I'd just stabbed him straight through the heart before burying his face in his hands. Of all the people he didn't want to think of him as a monster, I was at the top of the list.

"I'm sorry, Remus," I said, trying to sound comforting, but still too afraid to touch him.

"You know me better than anyone, Melinda," he said, sobbing. "Have I ever been anything but gentle? Have I ever done anything to make you think I would intentionally hurt you or anyone else? I have a sickness, remember? That's how you thought of it—just a sickness."

"Remus, I'm sorry," I said, tears forming in my eyes, "but that's just what Snape said."

"What?" he asked, removing his hands from his face and gaping at me with tear-stained cheeks.

"That I'd never suspect it from your manner."

"How could you believe him? Has he got you under a Confundus Charm or something?"

"He didn't have to use a charm. Only logic."

"What logic?"

"He asked me to think about, of the two of you, who was the proven liar," I whispered. Comprehension dawned in Remus' eyes then, and he sounded as if he were talking to himself rather than me when he continued.

"I thought I talked about all that when ... But he knew! He had to know! He came in before that ... Did I forgot to mention Snape came in with Harry's Invisibility Cloak?"

"Remus, what are you talking about?"

"Well, I glossed over the whole thing pretty quickly, didn't I?" When he realised what I'd asked him, he asked, "You remember when I told you about the night Sirius escaped from Hogwarts?"

I nodded.

"When Snape came to my office to bring me the potion that night, he saw the Marauder's map lying on my desk, fully activated. I'd been in such a hurry, I forgot to wipe it before I left. The map said I was heading for the Shrieking Shack, and he'd assumed I was running off to meet Sirius. He'd suspected me of helping him all year. By the time Snape saw the map, though, Peter, Sirius, and Ron were already in the shack. That's off the edge of the map, so he wouldn't have seen their names as I did.

"Snape set down the goblet when he looked at the map—it was still on my desk the next day—and he came to the Whomping Willow, intent on capturing Sirius. He found Harry's cloak lying at the base of the tree and put it on. The door opened seemingly on its own that night, and that's when I told the children the shack wasn't haunted—that it never had been, that the 'ghosts' people in Hogsmeade heard were actually my howls of pain. But Snape lied to you as well, because we talked about that night in our fifth year after he came in but before we knew he was there. He knows I wasn't in on that awful prank..." Remus trailed off and shrugged helplessly. "Oh, but why would he believe me? He never has. Why should he start now?

"The children knocked Snape out with their exuberant disarming. He was still unconscious when we talked about how Sirius found out Peter betrayed James and Lily. When Snape realised he wouldn't be getting the Order of Merlin, the next morning he told the Slytherins I was a werewolf. And I resigned before the owls came rolling in from parents—not because, mind you, just before. I didn't want Albus to jeopardise his reputation yet again merely to protect me. If I resigned because of anything, it was that I could have hurt Harry, Ron or Hermione that night. I only thank God Sirius was there to keep me off them."

I believed him then. I pulled him to me, apologising profusely for ever doubting him. Remus accepted my apologies with grace and love. Only one thing still bothered me about the whole affair.

"Why would Sirius try to kill Snape, though? Yes, he hated him, but why use you as his weapon? That would have got rid of Snape, but it would have hurt you just as much, wouldn't it? The headmaster couldn't have covered up a death, and you would have been expelled, too."

"Expulsion was the least of my worries. I would have been turned over to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures."

"Disposal?" I asked warily, knowing I didn't want to hear the answer.

"The Ministry of Magic's euphemism for execution. Wizards get trials. Werewolves don't."

"Oh my God! For something you weren't even conscious of doing?"

He nodded solemnly. "That's why Dumbledore was so protective of me. That's why he kept you from coming to Hogwarts, remember? Because the wolf in me might have killed your parents to protect my mate, even though the human in me would have only informed the proper authorities or tried any other way to get you out of such a terrible situation. The headmaster didn't want to gamble with my life."

"But why would Sirius?" I asked. "He loved you just as much, didn't he?"

"Sirius was always a loose cannon. Obviously he hadn't thought about the consequences of his actions. When Dumbledore told him his little joke could have meant a death sentence for one of his best friends in addition to Snape..." He shrugged again. "From then on the only thing he did more than detentions was apologise to me. If I had a Knut for every time I heard him say 'I'm so sorry, Moony,' well ... I wouldn't have to worry about not being able to find work. I got so sick of hearing that, I accepted his apology just to shut him up, but only after James and I refused to speak to him for two months. If that and his detentions weren't punishment enough, he spent twelve years in Azkaban for a murder he didn't commit. I think he's paid his debt for any attempted murder, and I've forgiven him. Can you?"

I nodded, and then shook my head.

"You can't forgive him?" Remus asked, concerned.

"Oh no, it's not that!" I said, touching his arm. "I just can't believe I let Snape manipulate me like that."

"Don't blame yourself, Wart," he said, putting his hand to my cheek. "He has the advantage of at least thinking he's justified ... Do you think he was trying to ascertain if we were still together?"

"I thought for a moment he might have been trying to goad me into defending you, but I don't think he'll suspect anything after today. I was a right nutter in his office."

"I'm sorry about that ... but at least you were convincing."

He held me for a long time after that, since I'd had a decidedly bad day. Well, both of us had, really.


	16. Summer School

When we last left our heroine, Professor Snape had tried his best to turn her against Professor Lupin, but luckily Snape's best wasn't good enough. I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**XVI: Summer School**

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I dreaded facing Professor Snape for the next Potions class, and especially for my next Thursday session. When I walked into the dungeon on Wednesday morning, he gave me a feeble smile, which I returned with equal weakness. After our last discourse, he seemed to think I was fragile. I can't help thinking Snape felt he'd saved my life with trying to turn me against Remus. I think he honestly believed that, which was the saddest part of all. He was so deep in denial, and he would never forgive Remus for something that wasn't even remotely his fault. Thankfully, he didn't ask me—or order me—to accompany him for subsequent visits to the Shrieking Shack until we were ready to test my potion, nor was Remus mentioned for a while afterward. But Potions class went on, our Thursday afternoon sessions went on, and life in general went on.

For the remainder of February, I watched and stirred as Snape added ingredients. The first Thursday in March, however, he unlocked his cupboard and told me to retrieve the ingredients myself. This was trickier than it sounds because he had several forms of some of the components. In addition, sometime when I hadn't been there, he'd rearranged the contents, so I could no longer rely on the shape of the bottles or labels. But I managed to find all the correct jars and bottles on the first try by the end of March. In April, he allowed me to mince the wolfsbane petals myself and help measure the other ingredients. And, on the last Thursday of term in May, he let me attempt my first potion unassisted. This was only an informal gauge of my progress, which was good as my first Wolfsbane potion was a miserable failure. Instead of sneering, however, Professor Snape was sympathetic.

"I couldn't do it for six months myself," he said, in an oddly comforting tone. "You'll get it one day."

"I was hoping to get it before term was over," I said sadly.

"Why is that?"

"Well, so I won't forget everything before September."

"We can still work on it over the summer, if you like. You live in the area, do you not?"

I was surprised. "Yes, I do, but I thought you'd be leaving for the summer—to visit family."

"I haven't any family to visit," he replied, shaking his head. "Well, none who claim me, anyhow. I usually devote the summer to my own research, but ... I wouldn't mind spending some extra time working on this ... with you."

"Thank you, sir. I am very grateful."

"It's no trouble, Miss Rhoades. I'm happy to help," he said, again smiling genuinely. This grin was wide across his face, surreal and bordering on silly in its innocence, and his eyes lit up in a way I've never seen before. It almost made me forget this man tried to delude me into thinking my fiancé was an attempted murderer.

Almost.

"I will still need considerable time, however, to work on my research," Snape continued. "Would mornings or afternoons be better?"

"Afternoons, I think," I said. "I'm not much of a morning person."

"Pity. I thought you might be interested in observing my research, as well."

"Oh ... Professor Snape ... I wouldn't want to get in the way."

"You would never be 'in the way,' Miss Rhoades. You are always welcome in my dungeon." His brows furrowed suddenly, and he added, "That doesn't sound very good, does it?"

I giggled. "No, it sounds decidedly bad, but I can still appreciate the sentiment."

"If you'd like, take a week to recuperate from exams."

"If it's quite all right with you, I'd rather start Monday."

He nodded, smiling again.

"Thank you for all your help this term, Professor Snape."

"My pleasure, Miss Rhoades."

After that, I went home. In my excitement, I told Remus all about the offer of extra tutoring during the summer. I thought he'd be happy, or at least grateful. Instead, his face showed only concern.

"Snape fancies you, Wart," he warned.

"Don't be silly, Moony!" I chided. "Just because he feels comfortable enough around me to smile?"

"That's a fairly good indicator. He never smiles."

"I'll admit I haven't known him as long as you have, but I do feel I know him a little better, regardless. I think I would know if he fancies me. Has it ever occurred to you that the man has no friends? And that could conceivably account for the overwhelming majority of his perceived nastiness?"

Remus' jaw dropped. "Perceived? How much of his actual nastiness do you think it accounts for?"

I sighed audibly. "Oh, Moony ... Would it cause you great physical pain to give Snape the benefit of the doubt occasionally?"

He put his hand to his chest and feigned a heart attack, coughing and sputtering.

"You are incorrigible!" I snapped.

"And you're stubborn, but that's what I love about you the most," he said, drawing me into his arms. Then his whispered throatily in my ear. "Admit it—you like my depravity, don't you? Just a little bit?"

I hesitated a moment for effect. "Yes," I muttered, pushing him away. "I'm going to Diagon Alley tomorrow. Do you want to come with?"

"What for?" he asked.

"Well, because I enjoy your company—most of the time, that is."

"Ha, ha, ha. I meant what are you going to Diagon Alley for?"

"I thought I'd pick up some things for Professor Snape. I've exhausted his supply of ingredients for Wolfsbane Potion this term."

"He's really going to want in your knickers if you start bringing him gifts."

Now my jaw dropped. "I thought you were a gentleman?"

"I can't afford to be delicate when it comes to Snape. I'd like to see how much you've learnt, though. I'll tag along, certainly, if only so you can prove you haven't been snogging every afternoon all this time."

"Oh, drop it, will you? Your jealousy's a bit tiresome at times."

Remus and I had to scour three apothecaries the next day to find all the components, and he indeed appeared impressed with the extent of my knowledge. Not nearly as impressed as Professor Snape was when I presented him with the ingredients the following Monday afternoon. He appeared deeply touched and thanked me so sincerely, I actually found myself wanting to hug him for that, although the urge was transitory.

Since there was no grade involved, and I had the means to procure my own supplies, Snape allowed me to prepare test potion after test potion every afternoon. Most of my attempts were laughable, but he never laughed. Instead he dipped a finger into the potion, telling me within seconds exactly where I'd strayed along the path to perfection. From one taste, he knew I had ground this seed too coarsely, or I had gone over half a drop on that liquid. And I marvelled more than once at how well the man knew his art.

When my frustration became too much, Professor Snape would make me sit, explaining some area of his research to me to get my mind off my pique. His research was fascinating, and this helped immensely. He also confided some of the more sordid aspects of his past. He told me how he'd once been a Death Eater, but he parted ways with the Dark Lord and began to spy for Dumbledore. He even showed me the Dark Mark on his arm. When I asked why he'd left Voldemort's service, he said he'd rather not say.

We had many long talks in the dungeon. Since there were no Slytherins around during the summer to overlook our exchanges or become jealous, Snape opened up to me quite a bit. I was flattered he considered me trustworthy enough to tell me all these things, and I told him quite a bit about myself as well. If Remus knew how much we'd talked, he would have been even more jealous than he already had been. And sometimes I thought that, if he and Remus hadn't been bitter enemies, Severus Snape and I might have become good friends.

Then one day in mid-June it happened. I stirred the cauldron slowly, as he circled me, almost like a predator. When asked what the next ingredient was and I answered, he retrieved the substance off his many shelves. He simply handed me the bottles or jars, giving no indication as to amounts. Then he stood close, quizzing me about the properties of the constituents in hushed, barely audible tones. Why was this herb used instead of that? Why was it dried instead of fresh? What would happen if I used too much? Too little? What side effects did it produce? Could anything be added to alleviate such adverse reactions without diminishing the potion's efficacy? The man was certainly thorough, even if he had few other redeeming qualities.

His hot breath lingered on my neck as he spoke. As imperceptibly as I could, I arched away from the warmth. I had no wish to offend him, but neither did I enjoy being this close to him, mostly because I was engaged. When the final component was added, and the liquid began to smoke, which he'd previously indicated was a good sign, I turned to ask for his assessment.

"What do you think, Profess—"

In an instant, his arms were around me, his lips locked onto mine in an insistent kiss. I tried to push him away, but he was stronger than I'd estimated and—as much as I hate to admit it—he was a fairly good kisser. If only for his ardour and the urgent desperation with which his mouth savaged mine, my knees buckled. I groped for support, my hands finding his neck. When my legs steadied, and the first flood of his passion subsided, I finally managed to wrench free from his arms.

"Professor Snape!" I gasped.

He staggered as if I'd slapped him with my words, his usually sallow complexion transforming into a strange tint of orange as he blushed.

"Forgive me—Miss Rhoades ... I didn't—that is—I don't ... I—I'm sorry—if—"

"Professor," I said, my chest still heaving from the shock. "I am flattered, but it's simply too soon. To me, it as if he died ... I'm not ready for another ... relationship ... yet." Remus would have cringed if he'd heard me say that.

"Oh—I didn't realise—or I never ... I'm sorry ... Sometimes ... one can confuse—passion ... for one's subject—with..."

I knew he liked me as a student—possibly even a friend—but before today, I hadn't realised his feelings went any deeper than that, despite Remus' warning. This was a side of him I was sure most people never saw. Not only the awkward attempt at a pass, but the outpouring of emotion that followed. Flustered and embarrassed obviously didn't come easily for the Potions master. Not that they are easy for anyone, but these feelings seemed to be especially traumatising for him. I wondered how to best handle the situation without wounding him any more. Approaching slowly, I squeezed his upper arm.

"Professor Snape ... Severus ... I understand completely, and it's all right. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression."

He shook his head, still blushing. "No ... I should have known ... I didn't think ... Naturally, you need ... time..."

"It's perfectly all right. I do understand."

His gaze fell to the floor, and he seemed to recover his composure as he looked past me to the smoking cauldron.

"Well," he squeaked awkwardly, then cleared his throat. "Well, that is promising. Now we've only to test your potion. Does your nephew live nearby?"

"Oh! Oh no ... Long ways off, I'm afraid. Germany."

"Indeed? I've heard Germany is a good place for werewolves to hide. Well, no matter. We'll use Lupin again." With a cruel glint in his eyes, he added, "I do hope you're a good enough potion-brewer not to kill him."

My eyes went wide. I hadn't read anything about Wolfsbane Potion being fatal if not brewed properly. What did he know that I didn't? I then chastised myself for thinking I'd missed anything. After all, he wouldn't let me try it on my "nephew" if there were any possibility of the potion's killing him, and he'd repeatedly tasted the potion himself.

"See you at seven?" he asked. Again, it was anything but a request.

"Yes, Professor Snape."

I gathered my bag, and he again let me use his fireplace and Floo powder to go home. When I entered, Remus was on the sofa, reading. He put down his book, rising to greet me.

"How was your day?" he asked, after kissing my brow.

"Moony, I don't think I can keep this up much longer."

"That bad, eh?" he asked, rubbing my arms. "You'll get the potion right any day now. I know you will."

"I think I did today," I said, shrugging.

"That's wonderful news! Why so glum?"

"I just hope it works tonight, is all."

He lowered his head to meet my eyes. "What's the matter, Wart?"

I bit my lip. "You have to promise you won't run mad if I tell you."

"I promise," he said slowly. "What is it?"

"Snape kissed me."

"WHAT?!?"

"Now, calm down!" I said, stepping between him and the fireplace. "You said you wouldn't go mad."

His hands clenched into fists. "That's before I found out—Snape—kissed—my fiancée!"

"He thinks we've broken up," I reminded him very quickly, grabbing his arms. Remus looked as if he was about to murder the man. "It is to our advantage to let him think that. You have to forget about this until we test my potion. If it works, after that it won't matter, and you can thump him to your heart's content. But until then, I'd appreciate it if you keep your jealousy in check."

Remus took a couple of deep breaths. And, although most of him calmed down, a wild look in his eyes still said, "My mate! Mine! Mine!!!" That would probably shock or bother, even scare, some women, but not I. In fact, I quite liked his possessiveness. There was never any question in his mind I was the only one for him, and he was the only one for me. Never did I have those nagging doubts some women experience of "Does he still love me?" Remus loved me with a maddening, animalistic passion. To those who haven't experienced that, I'm sure the thought would be frightening. When one is in the middle of it, however, such passion is anything but.

"The good news is," I continued after he'd calmed down, "I should be able to get some hairs for Sirius off my robes. Will you help me look?" He nodded, following me to the bedroom. As I unbuttoned my robes, his possessive eyes transformed quickly into bedroom eyes.

"How I love to watch you come out of your robes," he said, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the dresser.

"Not now, Moony. We need to look for hairs and—with black hair on black robes—that won't be easy."

Remus took my robes from me, draping them gingerly over the vanity chair, before gathering me in his arms.

"That can wait," he said.

"Moony—" He silenced me with a kiss. "Why are you always so randy on the full moon?"

"I would have thought that was obvious," he said, nuzzling my neck.

"Do you get some particularly kinky thrill out of shagging me before you see Snape?"

"Actually ... I do," he said between love bites. "Why ... do you ... ask?"

If Snape's breath on my neck earlier made me uncomfortable, Remus' was at the exact opposite end of the spectrum. That wouldn't have been readily apparent, however, to any voyeurs who happened to glimpse both events, since my reaction looked similar. Every inch of my flesh puckered into goose pimples. I also closed my eyes and flushed both times, I'm sure. The only visible difference was that I arched my body away from Professor Snape whilst I most certainly arched toward Professor Lupin.

Remus was quite jealous of my spending time with Snape, although my time in the dungeon was necessary. His human mind knew he had no logical reason to fear Snape's attentions or even his recent advance. But that concept is difficult, at best, to explain to the wolf. I usually indulged his pre-transformation affections since this helped him tolerate my time with Snape much better. Of course, the fact that he was an incredible lover didn't hurt matters either, and he also wouldn't feel up to such trysts for days afterward. But we didn't have time for that now. I would have to be back in the dungeon in a short while, and Sirius was counting on us.

"Don't make me have to use these," I said, lifting the collar and lead Harry and Ron gave him for his birthday from the vanity and brandishing them at him.

Remus took half a step backward and proceeded to beg like a dog, holding his hands up in front of him like paws and panting excitedly with his tongue hanging out.

"I don't mean I'm taking you a walk; I mean I'll restrain you if I have to."

His begging became more enthusiastic, and he added a head-bobbing nod.

"Damn! There goes my best threat!" I threw the collar and lead over my shoulder as he laughed and pulled me to him again. "All right, Moony. But we've only got a couple of hours, so let's get a move on."

He carried me to the bed, and I set my alarm, just in case we fell asleep. An hour later, we had my robes spread on the coverlet, scrutinising the material under bright wandlight for Snape's hairs. Eventually we located some that were too short and unctuous to belong to me. We placed those ten hairs in an envelope, which we sealed for the night before our wedding.

Remus had already been taking Professor Snape's Wolfsbane Potion for the seven days prior to this. If my potion weren't right, however, his transformation would be almost as awful as those before the potion, and the Shrieking Shack would become haunted once again. The week before helped some, but tonight's dose was the vital one. When I arrived in the dungeon, Snape was bent over his desk, writing in his research journal.

"Nervous?" he asked, barely looking up.

"Extremely," I answered, wringing my hands.

"If it smokes, the potion is almost certain to work," he reassured. "I have some things I want to finish up here. You go ahead. I'll be along with the goblet in a few minutes."

I nodded, and left the dungeon on my way to the Shrieking Shack. Remus was there when I arrived and lighting a fire, even though it was June.

"In case you need to make a quick exit," he said, his back still to me.

"Oh, Moony," I said with a sigh.

I knelt beside him at the hearth, laying my head against his shoulder and caressing his hair. He leant into my touch for a moment, but then he seemed to have second thoughts.

"Don't. Snape could be watching us."

"How?"

He nodded toward the fire.

"Not yet, but I plan to employ that method later," an icy voice said from the doorway.

Remus and I both turned, startled.

"Don't look so shocked," Snape said. "You knew I would be here shortly. It's almost as if you wanted to be caught ... I'm not sure why you persisted in the charade so long anyhow. I would still have gladly helped you learn to prepare the potion, Miss Rhoades."

"You would?" Remus asked before I had the chance.

"Of course I would, Lupin! I have sincere admiration for this lady's talent, even if her choice of friends lacks wisdom. And I'll be glad to finally be rid of you."

"How did you figure it out?" I asked.

"I'm not nearly as thick as you both seem to think," Snape replied. "Incidentally, your reaction earlier when I suggested an ill-prepared potion might be lethal was priceless. In addition to that, every full moon he reeks of lust. I'll wager you don't know the reason for his amorous bent on this particular day either, do you, Miss Rhoades? He is 'marking his territory,' if you will."

"Severus, is humiliating Melinda really necessary?" Remus asked in an exasperated tone, rubbing his eyes. "Can you not simply accept for once the better man has won out?"

"I think 'predator' would be more a more fitting noun." Snape's lip curled into a sneer. "I've been meaning to ask you, Lupin, how does it feel to be a kept man?"

Remus' expression turned stony for a fleeting instant but then faded into shrewd, and he laughed without mirth. "Well, I suppose I should tell you, Severus. After all, you'll never have the opportunity to find out on your own, will you?"

Snape's black eyes reflected pure hatred. I thought he might lunge, intent on duelling, any second.

"Gentlemen, please!" I said, stepping between them. "If you're quite finished comparing the size of your wands, I'd like to test my potion!"

They both turned toward me, stunned. I saw the faintest flicker of a smile on Remus' face and I was fairly certain, had he not been infatuated with me, Snape would have given me a detention for that comment. Instead he flushed a sickly orange and backed away, offering me the smoking goblet.

I took the cup and turned to Remus, pecking his lips lightly. "Good luck."

"If this doesn't work—" he began, but I put a finger to his lips. He drank the potion in several halted gulps, grimacing, and handed me the empty goblet. "It doesn't taste any different to yours, Severus ... No offence."

"None taken, for once," Snape replied. "Come along, Miss Rhoades. We can watch from my office."

"You aren't going to lock her in with me?" Remus asked sarcastically.

"No, Lupin. I'm not like your friend Black."

"Ah," Remus said, snapping his fingers. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"


	17. Ghoul Interrupted

When we last left our heroine, Professor Lupin had just drunk her potion, and she and Professor Snape were headed back to his office to watch the transformation. Will Melinda's potion work? (And I know a ghoul is nowhere near close to a werewolf, but I thought the title was cute. So sue me!) I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**XVII: Ghoul Interrupted**

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When Professor Snape and I returned to his office, he pulled a jar off the shelf.

"The Shrieking Shack," he said, tossing some light blue powder into the fire.

It wasn't Floo powder because the fire didn't glow green. Instead the flames flickered blue, and then a swirling image formed: the interior of the upstairs bedroom of the dilapidated house as seen from the fireplace. The image was incredibly clear. If not for the slight distortion caused by heat and the subject of the "programme," I would have thought I was watching the telly.

"If you don't want to watch this, I fully understand," Snape said gently, turning his desk chair to face the fire. "I can inform you of the results tomorrow."

"No, I simply have to know," I replied.

Snape nodded and set a chair in front of the hearth for me, and I sat. Remus had begun to strip before his transformation. Although I normally wouldn't have given watching this a second thought, my cheeks burnt brightly on this occasion as I felt Snape's eyes on me. I turned my face away from both his peering gaze and the image in the fireplace. When I chanced to look back, Remus had crawled under the rotting covers of the four-poster bed, and my embarrassment subsided. Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell his eyes were still fixed on me.

"Professor Snape, may I ask you something?" I asked, staring into the hearth to avoid his gaze.

"I think you can call me Severus when we're alone."

I nodded.

"What is your question?"

"If you knew Remus and I were still ... together ... why did you kiss me today?"

Movement in my peripheral vision indicated that he had now looked away. I turned my head toward him to find that he stared at his hands where they lay in his lap. After a moment, he sighed and rubbed his legs as if dusting something off his robes.

"I thought it was worth a try ... That ... you ... were worth taking the chance."

"Thank you ... I'm flattered. I really am, you know."

Snape rolled his eyes.

"No, I mean that. If things were different..."

"Do you mean ... if you'd met me first...?"

"Quite possibly," I said, nodding. "I truly like you, Severus. I've defended you to Remus dozens of times. I know the two of you will never be friends—at this point, I would be thrilled with civil—but part of me keeps hoping you can eventually bury the hatchet."

He didn't smile, but his eyes grew softer. "Perhaps someday," he said, then looked at the clock. "The moon is about to rise," he added solemnly.

I turned my attention back to the fireplace. Remus could have been asleep there in the bed, but he sat up suddenly, intense pain written in his expression, and stumbled onto the floor. He stood with a frantic look in his eyes, as if he wanted to run away but couldn't. Then it started: First he went rigid. He doubled over, falling to his knees and howling in agony. Hair sprouted through his skin, growing thicker by the second. His face elongated; his fingernails blackened and drew up into claws; his hands and feet contorted into paws, with his legs twisting into haunches. As much as it pained me to see the man I loved metamorphose into a wolf, I couldn't look away. When the change was complete, his wolfen eyes were full of sadness. And I stared into the fireplace, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Oh, Remus!" I said with a heavy sob.

"You must really love him to put yourself through this," Snape said, offering me a handkerchief.

I'd almost forgot he was in the room. I should have remembered, since we were in his office, after all. His hand was on my shoulder, and I hadn't noticed that either.

"With all my heart," I said softly, wiping my eyes.

Without another word, Snape bent and put his arms around me. This was a sympathetic gesture on his part, with no other desire in it as far as I could tell. I stood and cried into his chest, letting him comfort me.

"That's a good sign," he said after a while.

"What is?" I asked, turning back to the fireplace.

Remus had jumped onto the bed and was scratching his ear with a hind paw. He then turned around a couple of times and curled up on the mouldy bedspread, lying there placidly and yawning. With a high-pitched whimper, he rubbed a paw over his face and closed his eyes.

"Your potion has worked ... more or less," Snape said.

"What do you mean by 'more or less'?" I asked.

"Well, apart from Dumbledore, the only person ever to be with him in this state was Gisela Schütt. Both of them were sufficiently powerful to keep him from biting them. Even as proficient a wizard as I consider myself, I wouldn't want to be in there with him at the moment. He may be passive enough not to maim himself, but there are no guarantees he wouldn't harm someone else."

I eyed him suspiciously. "Severus, is this your mistrust of Remus as a werewolf talking, or merely your mistrust of Remus as a man?"

He pondered the question for a long moment. "The two are difficult to distinguish, I'll admit, but in this instance I do honestly believe what I tell you. I would suggest a sturdy cellar door if you still intend to marry Lupin."

"How—How did you know we're engaged?" I asked.

He lifted my left hand by the third finger to examine my engagement ring. I usually removed the ring before meeting him, but I kept it on the mantel and always put it on upon returning home. In the furore of searching my robes for hairs earlier, I'd clearly forgotten to take the ring off before returning to the dungeon.

"That is a fairly good clue," he said with a smirk. He then released my hand, turning toward his desk and shuffling some pieces of parchment. "I hope you know I never would have kissed you had I known you were engaged. I may despise Lupin, but even I have more respect for him than that. Lovely ring, by the way. He has excellent taste ... in more ways than one." He glanced up at me, smiling.

"Thank you," I said, feeling blood rising into my cheeks.

"Would you prefer to wait here until the moon sets, so you can keep an eye on him?"

"I'd prefer to be with him," I whispered.

"I would highly advise against that," Snape answered firmly. "I'll get you a cot, though, if you'd like to stay."

"If it's not too much trouble, Severus."

"Not at all. As I said, you are always welcome in my dungeon." He set the cot up in front of the fireplace, then handed me the jar of blue powder. "If the image starts to fade, toss some more of this on the flames." As he pressed an alarm clock into my hands, he added, "And I believe you already know when the moon will be setting."

I nodded again.

"Good night, Miss—Melinda."

"Good night, Severus."

I wound and set the alarm clock for 5:23 A.M., lowering myself onto the cot. Then I set the jar of powder on the floor in front of me and lay down to wait with Remus, as close to him as I safely could. I didn't intend to drop off, but I awoke with a start to the squalling bells of the clock. After quickly throwing some more blue powder into the flames, I watched Remus' transformation back into a man with just as much horror. When it was over, he lay—sweating and exhausted—on the Shrieking Shack's hearthrug. I gathered the blanket from the cot and then threw Floo powder into the fire.

"The Shrieking Shack," I said, barely waiting for the transport to complete before stepping out and covering Remus with the blanket. "How do you feel, Moony?"

"All the better for seeing you, Wart." He raised a languid hand to my face, which I kissed. "If you can endure watching that, you must really love me."

"Had you any doubts?"

"Only eight hundred or so per day."

I pulled him to me in reply.

"I have one last confession to make," he said, as I held and rocked him.

"What?" I asked, steeling myself for yet another blow.

"Remember when you asked what the boggart would turn into when it came at me?"

"Yes?"

"My response was a lie. Then it would have been the full moon, but now it really would be you walking out of my life forever."

"Well, a boggart will be the only way you'll ever see that, if I have any say in the matter."

I kissed him and then helped him dress. Shortly after, Snape came in through the fireplace, carrying a small vial of blood red liquid.

"How's the patient feeling this morning?" he asked.

"Fine, Severus," Remus answered hoarsely. "Depleted ... but fine."

Snape handed him the vial. "Drink this. It's a little something I whipped up last night to help with your anaemia."

Remus looked dubious. "It's not blood, is it?"

"No, it's not blood," Snape answered, rolling his eyes. "But it should mimic haemoglobin adequately until your own bone marrow decides to contribute again. I'll teach you to make this potion as well, Miss Rhoades, along with seeing if you can reproduce the Wolfsbane Potion. I doubt this time was a fluke, but it never hurts to be sure. We'll know for certain in a month. And we can also work on improving the flavour. Now, I think you need to put him to bed, and I'll see you this afternoon."

"Thank you, Professor Snape," I said.

I could tell from his expression Snape knew his attempt at extending the olive branch did not go unnoticed—by either of us. After Snape left, I took Remus home and lay down with him. The anti-anaemia potion helped immensely. He felt like himself again in mere hours instead of days. His colour was good and, after a four-hour nap, he awoke feeling refreshed with only a hint of the ill effects I'd seen so often before.

"You must have given Snape one hell of a kiss, Wart," Remus said jokingly, stretching.

"Well, it was more like the other way around," I said.

He arched an eyebrow. "Oh, so he kisses well, then?"

"Not half bad, actually, but not nearly as good as you. Anyway, why do you ask?"

"The fact that he would go out of his way to make a potion only to make me feel better. I can understand his concern for the risks I present to others, but consideration for my comfort—never in my wildest dreams would I expect Snape to give that a second thought."

"He's not so evil as you think, Moony."

Remus looked away, frowning. "I never said he was evil. Dumbledore wouldn't trust him if he were evil."

"You certainly act as though you think he is sometimes."

"I'm sorry, Wart. I'll try to be ... nicer to him. For your sake."

"I appreciate that," I said and pecked his cheek. "By the way, what were you going to say last night? If this doesn't work...?"

"Oh, I didn't want you to blame yourself for whatever I might ... do to myself. The biting and scratching, you know."

"That must have been awful."

"I don't remember doing it, only feeling it afterward. Of course, the hospital wing staff always managed to fix me up fairly quickly. And, since I'd had a taste of my own blood at least, I didn't have to deal with anaemia on top of the wounds."

"Well, once I've learnt to make this new potion, you won't have to deal with anaemia either."

He smiled and hugged me. "You're a dear, you know that?"

"Yes, I do. Want some breakfast?"

"That would be welcome."

For the first time, I didn't feel guilty about leaving Remus alone the day after the full moon. He was still a little tired, but felt good enough to move to the sofa and read whilst I got ready for my afternoon session. I made it as far as the fireplace when he called to me.

"Wart? Aren't you going to take off your ring?"

"No need, Moony," I answered, turning to face him. "Snape knows we're engaged now. You could've reminded me last night, though."

"Oh, so sorry love. How did he take the news?"

"Very well, actually. Incidentally, he said he never would have kissed me if he'd known then, so I don't think you'll need to kill him after all."

"Whatever you say, dear," Remus replied, chuckling, as I stepped into the flames.

When I entered the dungeon, Snape was already setting up the cauldron and supplies for my first attempt at the anti-anaemia potion. I approached him, smiling gratefully.

"I take it my new potion helped," he said, his black eyes flicking in my direction.

"It did wonders, Severus! How can I ever thank you?"

"By taking Lupin off my hands for good and all?"

I frowned at that, and his gaze fell to the floor. "Well, you can't expect me to be pleasant all the time, can you?" he asked with a slight shrug.

"No, I suppose not," I answered, smiling and patting his arm.

The anti-anaemia potion was something Professor Snape happened upon in a Potions journal quite by accident, but it was easy enough to prepare. He was fairly certain I had it right by the next week, although we couldn't properly test it for over another fortnight. In the meantime, I practised the Wolfsbane potion again every day. I had a few scattered failures, but the cauldron smoked consistently by the middle of July. And, the week preceding the full moon, Remus took my potion and mine alone. Thankfully, his transformation during the full moon in July was just as peaceful as the one in June. In addition, my anti-anaemia potion worked just as well as Snape's had.

When Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived during the first week of August, we had tons of good news to deliver. We'd invited them to stay at the boarding house until the start of term. We only had two rooms available, but Ron and Harry didn't mind sharing. And the Dursleys were extremely pleased when I—a quite normal looking woman—arrived to pick Harry up in my car.

Mr Dursley asked if I knew the witch with whom Harry would be staying. When I replied I was the witch with whom Harry would be staying, his jaw dropped. I then mentioned in passing that my fiancé, who was also a wizard, just happened to be best friends with Harry's godfather—the convicted murderer. After I added Remus was also a werewolf, for some reason, Vernon Dursley lost all powers of speech. Harry laughed for a full thirty minutes as we drove away. If he didn't care for me before that, he certainly would have afterward—despite my being a little too cosy with Professor Snape to suit him.

Hermione—being Hermione and having read everything she could on the subject—was fairly impressed I could bring off preparing the Wolfsbane Potion. She was also impressed I had read _Hogwarts: A History_, since this seemed to be something Ron and Harry never managed to get around to doing. After that, something in her seemed to click, and she determined I was worthy of Remus. She still didn't like me very much, but I had a plan to combat that. The first step was to ask her to help me prepare the Polyjuice Potion Sirius would be using for his disguise at the wedding. We took a girl's day out to Diagon Alley to get the components when I asked her over banana splits.

"Why do you want my help?" she asked, suspiciously.

"Because you've done it before, and I haven't. And I can't ask Professor Snape for help, since the potion's a little suspect."

"I'm sure he wouldn't tell for you," she retorted with more than a little contempt. "He seems to be quite fond."

"He is fond of me, and I of him."

Her eyes widened. "You're kidding? Please tell me you're kidding!"

I had the distinct impression my worthiness had just slipped a couple of notches. "No, I'm not," I answered calmly. "We've grown quite close over the summer. He's not so bad when you get him talking about his research, actually—almost like a child on Christmas morning. Most of his potion research deals with antidotes to nefarious potions used by Vold— You-Know-Who's supporters."

Remus and Harry—and Sirius in his letters—always called Voldemort by name, but sometimes I had trouble remembering most other witches and wizards referred to the Dark Lord as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Silly, I thought. After all, it was just a name.

"Snape has, unfortunately, had some experience in that arena," I continued. "He's trying to make amends."

She bit her lip, nodded, and swirled her spoon through her melting ice cream with concentration more intense than I thought a banana split demanded. I could see she wasn't moved so far, but my next reason couldn't fail to snag her.

"Also, I want to keep it a secret from Harry because I can't wait to see the look on his face the day of the wedding."

"Why?" she asked. "Who is Sirius going to be?"

"Professor Snape," I said.

She laughed out loud. "Oh my! That should be great!"

"Moony's promised to snap some photos, since I won't be there to see it."

"You won't be at your own wedding?"

I wondered if that was a hopeful note I heard in her voice. "I'll be in the back still. The groom and best man come out first."

She frowned. "Oh. I forgot."

Time to move on to step two. "And ... actually ... I was hoping ... you'd be back there with me."

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking up at me, her brows knitted in confusion.

"Hermione, would you be my maid of honour?" I asked, taking a casual bite of my banana split as I awaited her answer.

"What?!?"


	18. Shapeshifters 'R' Us

When we last left our heroine, her Wolfsbane potion worked, and so did her subsequent attempts at both the Wolfsbane and anti-anemia potions. The only snag on the horizon of Melinda and Professor Lupin's happiness now seems to be ... Hermione. I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**XVIII: Shape-shifters 'R' Us**

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I'd expected the request to surprise Hermione, no doubt, but I wasn't prepared for the amount of shock and abject horror I perceived on her face. I was deeply wounded and, I'll admit, I reacted badly.

"Look, Hermione," I said sharply, "I know you have a crush on Moony, but you don't have to be this way about it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said quietly. She went back to studying her banana split, but she now was bright red.

"I can't say I blame you at all," I continued, more gently. "If he were my Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I'd be smitten as well." I neglected to add that Remus practically was my instructor, since the most recent addition to the Hogwarts' staff, Professor Bootless, was completely ineffectual.

"You're mental," she whispered. This was bad. Hermione had an admirable vocabulary, so whenever she resorted to using Ron's expressions, the situation was grave indeed.

"I don't think I am. I love Remus and I want to make him happy above all else. And, since he has such high regard for you, I wish we could be friends. I really do."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she said curtly, standing and pulling her bag over her shoulder.

Hermione walked quickly away from the table, and I jumped up, following her. She had a bit of a head start, but I caught up with her once she'd passed a few shops, grabbing her arm and wheeling her around to face me. Tears poured from her eyes, which were already red and puffy. In my shock, I let go of her arm instantly. I felt so terrible for outing her crush. Of all people, her beloved's intended! She backed away from me as if I were the devil incarnate, then turned and ran. I lost sight of her as she entered Flourish and Blotts. I couldn't find her anywhere in the store, so I imagined the fireplace here was the nearest she could find. Again I followed, only a few steps behind.

"What happened?" Remus asked, alarmed, when I emerged from the hearth. "Hermione tore through here in a terrible state, saying something about wanting to get pissed."

"Isn't what happened obvious?" I asked testily. "We've had a lovely day of shopping." I brushed past him into the kitchen where I began to run a sinkful of hot water to start washing up.

"What are you doing?" he asked, leaning against the counter.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I snapped. "I'm cleaning."

"You don't need to clean like that any more. You do remember that you're a witch and you can wash up with spells, don't you?"

"I'm an upset witch at the moment, and I clean when I'm upset." I sighed loudly. "She hates me, Moony."

"She doesn't hate you, Wart."

"You should have seen the look on her face when I asked her to be my maid of honour. I may as well have asked if she wanted to devote her life in service to Voldemort."

Remus wrapped him arms around me from behind. "I'll talk to her."

"That won't help, trust me." I turned, laying my head against his chest and clasping him tightly with sudsy hands.

He kissed my forehead. "No, you're probably right ... But I think I might know what would."

"Where are you going?" I asked as he started toward the door.

"I have to ask Harry if I can borrow Hedwig."

"What are you up to, Moony?"

"No good, as usual," he said with a wink. "Don't worry, Wart. I'll sort it out."

Hermione refused to acknowledge my presence during tea or supper, although Harry and Ron gave her several cold stares. Hedwig returned shortly after Remus and I had gone to bed, tapping lightly on the window. Remus lit the bedside candle with his palm flame, then opened the window and unwrapped the response from her leg. He read with his back to me so I couldn't see what the letter said.

"No reply, thanks, Hedwig. Do you want to go through back to Harry's room or around?" he asked, as he put the letter away.

Hedwig clicked her beak and turned around on the windowsill.

"All right, around then. Thanks again, Hed." Remus closed the window and came back to bed.

"So, what was that all about?" I asked, snuggling up to him.

"I said I'd sort it out, didn't I?" Remus asked, kissing my forehead. "Can't I have one or two little secrets, Wart?"

"I don't like your secrets, Moony," I said, pouting. "They always mean trouble."

"Well, let's call it a surprise, then." He kissed me and we settled down to sleep.

I woke at a little after six the next morning when I rolled over and Remus wasn't in the bed. After pulling on my robe, I went downstairs to look for him. When I found him—on the back porch by the car park—he sat on a crate, feeding sausages to a huge black dog. In all my life, I've never seen a dog that size: as big as a small bear. There was nothing exceptionally odd about Remus' talking to the dog, I suppose, but the dog appeared to be listening intently as it gnawed on the sausages. I feel guilty about it now, but I listened through the door before I went outside.

"I was thinking, maybe if you talked to her, she'd understand," Remus said. "She'll listen to you, whereas she wouldn't listen to me. At least, not about this."

The dog made a knowing whimper.

"You know what my life was like before, right? And how good Wart is to me? I mean, my God! She's endured Snape long enough to learn to make the Wolfsbane Potion for me! If that isn't devotion, I don't know what is!"

The dog wagged his tail and made a noise that sounded incredibly like a chuckle. It then dawned on me what Remus wanted Hedwig for: black dog ... Sirius Black. I stepped outside quickly, pulling the door closed behind me.

"Oh, Snape's not all that bad when you get to know him," I said. "Good morning, Moony. Nice to meet you finally, Sirius."

The dog sat up and extended a paw, which I shook.

"So, is this why you asked me about pets, Remus?"

"You didn't think I was going to transform in my room, did you?" Remus asked with a smirk. "Like I said, I sometimes take in strays."

Sirius growled.

"Oh, come off it, Padfoot! How would you explain it to your landlady?"

"Would you two like to come upstairs, so Sirius can ... slip into something more comfortable?"

They both nodded, and I opened the door to the back staircase. Even though we weren't likely to run into anyone here, we kept our voices low.

"Come on, Snuffles," Remus said, patting his leg. "Come on, boy."

"Snuffles?" I asked incredulously.

"He chose the name," Remus whispered. "No accounting for taste."

Sirius growled again.

When we were upstairs with the doors locked and the curtains drawn, the dog became a man, and Remus embraced him warmly. When they pulled apart, I had my first look at Sirius Black of Moony, Padfoot and Prongs notoriety. He was a tad taller than Remus, but not much, although he looked more so because he was rail thin. In fact, it was striking how much their features had in common when I first met them both: the pale, gaunt face and the tired eyes. Remus had filled out nicely now, but the image of Sirius as a man was eerily familiar, even though they couldn't have looked more different physically.

Remus' short brown hair was peppered with grey and had an annoying habit of falling into his eyes; Sirius' shaggy jet mane fell to the middle of his back but seemed to stay out of his face of its own volition, almost as if it were afraid to anger him. Remus' hazel eyes were hauntingly kind; Sirius' black eyes looked distant and as if they could become cruel in an instant—a great deal like Professor Snape's. I instinctively knew I never wanted to have either Sirius Black or Severus Snape truly angry with me. When Sirius smiled, however, he showed the same warmth as Remus, and I was instantly at ease around him.

"Would you like a proper breakfast, Padfoot?" I asked, heading toward the kitchen. "You don't mind if I call you Padfoot, do you?"

He beamed a great smile. "Yes. And no."

I stared at him for a second before asking, "You're as bad as Dumbledore, aren't you?"

"That I will take as great compliment, Wart," Sirius said, with a slight bow. "How d'you get stuck with 'Wart' anyhow?"

I stepped from the kitchen, skillet in hand. "Ask that one," I said, pointing my spatula at Remus.

"Well, Moony?"

"She's a worrywart. Always fussing over me. It just ... fit."

"You need someone to fuss over you, Moony," Sirius said. "I'm glad you found such a looker, though."

I felt myself blush as I scrambled eggs and fried more sausages.

"Don't get any ideas, Padfoot, old friend," Remus warned. "I may be a wolf, Wart, but Padfoot is most certainly a dog."

"I suppose 'Wart' is pretty good, considering," Sirius continued, apparently ignoring Remus. He came into the kitchen and leant against the doorjamb. "I came up with 'Moony,' and James thought up 'Prongs' himself, but 'Wormtail' was his idea." He jerked his head in Remus' direction.

"Am I never going to hear the end of that?" Remus asked, joining us. "I didn't turn him into a rat, you know? He did that all on his own."

"I feel some motherly chastising coming on," I said, scraping eggs onto plates and doling out sausages.

"Oh, I do like her, Moony," Sirius said, as I handed him his plate.

"Why?" I asked. "Because I can cook, or because I won't hesitate to put you in your place?"

"Both," Sirius replied, shrugging, but with a smirk.

Remus pecked my cheek and took his plate. We three then sat down to breakfast. Sirius wolfed down his food as Remus explained the rest of situation with Hermione, including her reaction when I'd asked her to be my maid of honour. He nodded occasionally and made some grunting noises, but it was clear he already had a plan in mind. We decided, after he had some time to let his breakfast settle, that Remus would go downstairs and bring her up so Sirius could talk to her. Hermione and Sirius went into our bedroom, and Remus again went downstairs to retrieve Ron and Harry, who waited on the sofa.

I'll never know exactly what Sirius said to Hermione. Both refused to tell any of us, but I highly suspect it included horrible tales of Remus' transformations before the potion, which Sirius had undoubtedly witnessed, or at least heard. They only talked for a quarter hour or so but, when Sirius opened the door of our bedroom, he beckoned Remus and me inside. Hermione sat on the bed, still crying. I thought it hadn't gone well, that Sirius couldn't convince her. To my surprise, after Sirius closed the door behind us, she got up, walked straight to me, and hugged me around the middle.

"I'm so sorry, Wart," she whispered, strangled with emotion.

I looked to Sirius, but he only shook his head. "It's quite all right, Hermione," I said, stroking her unruly hair.

"No, it's not all right. I've been perfectly horrid to you, when all you've wanted is to make Moony's life as nice as you possibly can. I'm so sorry ... and I would love to be you maid of honour, if the offer still stands."

"Of course it does!" I said, smiling.

Sirius cleared his throat. "I'll just go talk to Harry and Ron, then, shall I?"

Remus came over and knelt down to hug her. "You've made us both very happy, Herm," he said.

"I'm sorry, Moony. I've been such a prat!"

"No, you haven't," he said gently. With a wry grin, he added, "A brat, perhaps, but not a prat."

"Remus!" I chided, slapping the back of his head.

"No, he's right," Hermione said, wiping her eyes. "How can I ever make it up to you?"

I thought for a minute. "Well, I still haven't picked out my wedding dress. Want to help?"

Her eyes went wide with delight. "Oh, I'd love that. Thank you ever so much!"

Unfortunately, Sirius couldn't stay long, so Harry took Snuffles down the back stairs after lunch, after the rest of us said our good-byes. My next girl's day out with Hermione went much better than the first, as we wandered through Muggle London looking at dresses. Remus had left it up to me whether to have a Wizard or Muggle wedding, as he was just as comfortable in either type of attire. I chose a Muggle wedding because I was determined at least once in my life to see him in an Ascot tuxedo. The fringe benefit was I would get to see Snape in one as well. In the end, Hermione and I agreed on a very Victorian looking wedding dress—complete with bustle—and a Victorian bridesmaid's gown to match.

Now that we were friends at long last, after Ron and Harry went to bed, Hermione would sneak upstairs for an hour or so to work on the Polyjuice Potion. Since Sirius wouldn't be able to join us again until right before the wedding, Remus volunteered to be our guinea pig. He sipped the potion and waited for it to take affect. When it did, his guise was flawless, even down to the greasy hair, the antiseptic odour, and the Dark Mark on his left forearm.

"Easiest transformation I've ever had," Remus said in Snape's voice, admiring his reflection. "Werewolf to slimeball in two minutes flat."

"Remus," I warned.

"Sorry, Wart," Remus said, glancing at me briefly before turning back to the mirror and grinning. "You know, a smile really improves his looks."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you for months," I said.

"Are you sure you don't fancy Snape?" he asked, dipping me and leaning in for a kiss.

"Stop!" I cried, planting my hands firmly on his shoulders in an attempt to push him away. "This is too creepy."

"Why?" he whispered. "You've done it before..." He then wriggled Snape's eyebrows.

"Not in front of Hermione," I said, glancing in her direction. "You'll traumatise the poor girl."

"Oh!" His eyes grew wide, and he set me upright. "I forgot we had an audience."

When we turned to face her, Hermione shuddered, her nose crinkled with distaste.

"Er—sorry, Hermione," I said.

"Yes, so sorry, Herm," the Snape-like Remus repeated. He then got a mischievous look in his eyes. "Fifty points from Gryffindor!" he bellowed, and Hermione flinched.

"Not so loud!" I hissed. "Harry and Ron will hear you, and I don't want to have to explain why Snape is in my flat."

"I've always wanted to do that," Snape's voice said through a hearty chuckle.

"Sometimes I really hate being so good," Hermione said. "I'm going to bed before I'm marred for life." With a wave, she stood and pivoted on the ball of her foot, heading toward the door, her intractable hair swinging pertly behind her.

After Hermione left, when I turned to Remus, he had fixed a positively lewd expression on Snape's face. "So ... you want to?" he asked, jerking his head toward the bedroom.

"What?!?" I gasped, completely shocked.

"Oh, come now," he said, putting an arm around my waist and pulling me close to Snape's body. "Don't tell me you haven't had your little fantasies about him."

"Oh, Moony! This is too kinky even for you." I tried to push him away again, but he wouldn't let go.

"Nothing's too kinky for me," Snape's double purred, shrugging. "You can feel free to admit it. I won't get angry. I understand, actually. He's so dark and ... dangerous." He whispered the last word against the skin of my neck, and I shivered.

"Are you sure you won't get angry?" I asked cautiously.

The Snape-like Remus nodded, and murmured an "Mmmm hmmm," before nibbling my earlobe.

I shivered again. "All right. I've had a few tiny fantasies."

"Let's see how many of them we can live out before this stuff wears off."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that."

"Why not?" he asked, puzzled.

"We have plenty more hairs," I said, giggling and backing away from him. "I can always make more."

"Doesn't sound like tiny fantasies to me," the Snape-like Remus said, chasing me into the bedroom.


	19. Heroes and Exmoor

When we last left our heroine, she and Hermione had made up, with a little help from Sirius, and they tested their Polyjuice Potion with Professor Snape's hair on Professor Lupin. Unfortunately for Hermione, the potion worked far too well. I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**XIX: Heroes and Exmoor**

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Professor Snape and I had one last long conversation two weeks before the beginning of my second year at Hogwarts, and a week before the wedding. At first when he said he wanted to speak to me, I thought he'd somehow learnt of our plan for Sirius' guise and was upset. If he knew of our little foray into the uses of Polyjuice Potion, however, he showed no such knowledge. He closed his office door and sat behind the desk without looking at me. His expression was very grave, and I was concerned.

"Miss Rhoades ... Melinda ... I feel compelled to tell you, while this summer has been one of the most enjoyable periods of my life, I fear our friendship must now come to an end."

"Why?" Part of me wondered if he couldn't deal with the thought of my wedding approaching. Once again, my expression betrayed my thoughts.

"This is not motivated by jealousy, or any other such emotion, I'm afraid. I only wish it were. This is not even self-preservation talking."

"Severus, what is it?"

"You are the only person in many years I've ... cared enough about ... to confide in. And I must ask none of this leave this office because it could mean many lives. I must swear you to absolute secrecy."

"I won't tell anyone. I give you my word."

"Even Lupin?"

"Even Remus."

Snape finally looked at me, sadness in his black eyes. "You know I have, in the past, been associated with the Dark Lord's supporters."

"The Death Eaters? Yes, you have told me as much yourself, although Har— Some of my friends believe you are still loyal to ... You-Know-Who."

"It is just as well Potter think that. And all of his associates. I'll admit I have some little contempt for the famous Harry Potter and his friends, although it is not as deep as they believe. Potter is an arrogant student—so like his father—but I don't hate him. I care about the safety of all Hogwarts students, but I usually allow myself to become close to none. I must keep up certain ... pretences."

"What do you mean?"

"Now the Dark Lord has returned, I am once again employed as a spy on the headmaster's behalf. Many students in Slytherin House have parents who are Death Eaters. Were I to show preference for students in other houses or to treat Slytherins worse than they have come to expect, my loyalty might become suspect. As a result of this unfortunate arrangement, I cannot allow our friendship to continue. In fact, it was foolish of me to ever ... let down my guard ... in the first place."

"Friendship is never foolish," I said gently, reaching across the desk to touch his hand.

He laid his other hand over mine and closed his eyes with a small smile. "I have cherished your friendship, Melinda—more than you will ever know. Alas, this indiscretion, however slight, would compromise my reputation among the Death Eaters."

"Oh, Severus, is it really that serious?"

"Unfortunately, yes." When he looked at me again, his black eyes showed fear in addition to the previous sadness. "My kind feelings toward you are the only chink in my armour. To continue our friendship might place you in danger, as well, and I cannot have that. You will find, at the start of the next term, that I will be distant at best and at many times cruel. I have to once again prove my loyalty, and I wanted to apologise in advance for this ill treatment.

"Please know, whatever I may say or do, this is no reflection on you or what your friendship has meant to me. I will also have to mark you more stringently than I do other students. Keep in mind you remain the best Potions student I've ever known. Your marks will still be sterling by comparison to most students, but there will be a noticeable drop, as I am not renown for my fairness."

"That seems a small sacrifice in comparison to yours, Severus."

He gifted me with a rare, wistful smile. "Perhaps some day, if the Dark Lord is defeated permanently, we can once again be friends."

"I'll look forward to it," I said rising.

"I'm only glad you managed to master the Wolfsbane Potion before this," Snape said, also rising. "Lupin is in very good hands."

"Thank you for everything." I walked behind the desk and embraced him, pulling back only when I thought of something else. "If you ever need my or Remus' help—"

He held up his hand to silence me. "If it should come to that, then ... ah ... I fear, it will already be too late for me."

I nodded solemnly. "I'll never forget you, Severus."

"Nor I you, Melinda."

"I ... I'll pretend we quarrelled, and you threw me out of the dungeon today."

"That is precisely what I was about to propose. You'd make rather a good spy yourself, you know."

I smiled bravely, but I left the dungeon that day with a heavy heart. My respect and admiration for Professor Snape rose immensely, although this only made me feel worse. No one would ever know Snape as I did—except the headmaster, perhaps—and I couldn't use all the knowledge at my disposal to defend him in the manner he deserved. His sacrifice was great, the risks he took even greater, and I still consider him one of the most worthy heroes it has ever been my pleasure to know.

Before this, I felt wrong for not inviting Snape to the wedding, though that would have necessitated a new disguise for Sirius, but then I realised this was just as well. I only hoped Sirius' assuming his form at the wedding wouldn't place Professor Snape in any more danger. He kindly let me remain in the dungeon long enough to work up a good flood of tears. That wasn't nearly as difficult as I would have imagined, since I was already on the verge under the circumstances. When I returned to my sitting room, I wailed loudly, and Remus was thoroughly taken in.

"What's wrong, Wart?" he asked, grabbing my upper arms and looking concerned.

"Professor Snape and I had a terrible row," I said. "He said the most awful things."

"Oh, darling, I'm sorry." He pulled me close, stroking my hair. "What did he say?"

"I don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget I was ever nice to that man."

"I hate to say I told you so..." Remus said.

"Then don't!" I snapped, running to the bedroom and collapsing on the comforter.

He sat beside me, caressing my back. "I know he isn't evil, but he's not ... nice. Don't let whatever he said get to you."

I turned and let Remus hold me again. "I know you warned me, but I really thought we were friends."

"I'm very sorry, Wart, but it's better you see his true colours before you became any closer."

I found myself wanting to defend Snape again, but I repressed the urge with much difficulty.

"I wish I could make this easier for you," Remus said gently.

"Thanks, Moony," I said, holding him tighter. "I'll be all right eventually. Let's just not discuss him any more."

"Whatever you want, Wart." He kissed my forehead. "I'm almost done packing for the weekend. Do you want to inspect what I've got for you?"

"No, I trust you," I said, wiping my eyes.

We were planning to go to visit Remus' parents over weekend, so I could meet them before the wedding. My parents weren't invited. Harry, Ron, and Hermione declined to accompany us to Devon, saying they would be fine in our absence and didn't want to get in the way. Sirius knew of our plans and, at the last minute, he showed up to keep the children entertained. He added he'd completed whatever little errands Dumbledore had for him at the moment and could probably stay until the wedding, provided we kept the curtains drawn.

When Remus and I left for Exmoor, I was in a much better mood than when I'd come home that afternoon. The Lupins' cottage was large and homey, with a beautiful hearth and a warm fire through which we entered. A slightly built witch, short with snow-white hair and apron, rushed into the room.

"Abram, they're here!" she said excitedly, walking quickly to Remus and hugging him. "Remus Jeremiah! It's so good to see you."

"Hello, Mum," Remus said, stooping to kiss her wrinkled cheek. "This is Melinda."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs Lupin," I said, extending my hand, but she hugged me as well.

"Aren't you a pretty one? Call me Mildred, dear. Everyone does. Remus didn't describe you anywhere near right, except to say you were lovely." Mrs Lupin turned toward the kitchen, cupping her hands to her mouth and hollering louder this time. "Abram, they're here! Oh, excuse me, won't you? Remus' father is getting a little hard of hearing." She wandered off to the kitchen.

Shortly I heard an old man say, "Well, why didn't you tell me?"

Remus sniggered, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.

"Moony, stop that," I said, backhanding his chest.

"Oh Wart, I love them both to pieces, but they're quite amusing on occasion."

Mrs Lupin reappeared shortly, dragging an old man behind her. What little hair he had was also white. He was every inch Remus' height, despite his age, and had the same lovely hazel eyes, although they were somewhat clouded by his years.

"Isn't she pretty?" Mrs Lupin asked.

"What?" Mr Lupin asked around the pipe stem clenched in his teeth.

Remus tapped his wand to each of his father's ears, muttering, "_Amplificus_." When he continued, his father heard him perfectly. "Mum said 'Isn't she pretty?' Dad."

"Oh aye, she is that," Mr Lupin answered. "Nice to see you, whelp," he continued, embracing his son.

"Nice to see you, too, Dad. This is Melinda."

Mr Lupin cuddled me as well. "Why haven't you been to see us sooner?" he asked with a hand on Remus' shoulder.

"Albus has been keeping me busy," Remus replied. I looked at him questioningly, but he only mouthed, "Later."

"Oh, I forget sometimes what a lofty wizard my son's become! On a first name basis with Dumbledore and all!"

"Abram, leave the boy alone," Mrs Lupin chided. "Dumbledore's a great wizard, and if he wants our son's help, Remus will gladly help him." She turned to me and asked, "Would you like some tea, dear?"

"Yes, please."

"Thanks, Mum, tea'd be great."

We went through to the kitchen, following the delicious aroma of Mrs Lupin's crumpets. After sitting down to a lovely tea, we started a pleasant conversation that didn't end until well after dinner. I liked the elder Lupins a great deal, and I could easily see how Remus turned out the way he was. From my best estimations, they were in their late seventies, so they must have been over forty when he was born. With an only child born late in life, it was no wonder they were overprotective. And Remus was bound to be a troublemaker. Falling in with Sirius and James probably only encouraged him.

"You couldn't imagine how happy we were when we had Remus' owl saying he'd finally met a girl who knew about his condition and didn't mind," Mrs Lupin gushed.

"His condition, his condition," Mr Lupin droned. "The whelp's a bloody werewolf!"

"Language!" Mrs Lupin yelped. I wondered if it was the "bloody" or the "werewolf" to which she had an objection.

"Dad hates euphemisms," Remus explained, and I could tell he was working hard to repress a smirk.

"So, the whelp tells us you've learnt to make the Wolfsbane Potion?" Mr Lupin continued.

"Yes, I have," I said, "and also something to help with his anaemia after the full moon."

"I always told him to pay more attention in Potions," Mrs Lupin said reprovingly. "I knew it would come in handy some day."

"Oh, Mum!" Remus said, with an exasperated sigh. "I paid close attention in all my classes. My nose was simply too discriminating to like Potions. Besides, Melinda's good enough in Potions for the both of us."

"I'm happy to help, Mrs—Mildred." I stopped mid-address because of the look she gave me—chastising in the nicest possible way.

"Well, we old folks in Devon go to bed early," Mr Lupin said, rising. "The whelp'll show you your room."

Mrs Lupin rose also, kissing Remus forehead and then mine. "Good night, you two."

"My room?" I asked after they'd left the kitchen.

"Mum and Dad are a little ... old fashioned," Remus said with a cough. "I hope you don't mind."

"Hmmm," I said, rising and brushing some errant strands of hair missed by his mother's ministrations back from his brow. "I don't know if I can keep my hands off you for two whole days."

Remus rose and pulled me close, kissing me. "You don't have to keep your hands off me. We just have to sleep in separate beds."

"In your parents' house? Moony, you are kinky! But I think we'd be a little too loud. Well, I would anyhow."

"The Amplification Charm wears off in a few hours," he said, biting my neck.

"Yes, but your mother's hearing seems to be fine," I protested, giggling. "Why does your father call you 'the whelp'?"

"He didn't care for 'Moony'. Want to go for a walk?"

"On Exmoor?" I asked incredulously.

Remus did smirk this time. "Well, we don't have to wander the whole moor, but I thought you might want to see where I was bitten."

"Are you sure that won't bother you?"

He shook his head. "I've been a werewolf for three decades now, Wart. I hardly get emotional any more."

I nodded. "All right, Moony."

He took my arm, and we walked out the backdoor onto the landscape of Exmoor, which looked dark purple now the sun had set. The remnants of a stone fence encircled the backyard, with the stones tumbling in many places. Remus picked up a fragment of stone, tossing it out onto the moor. He then pointed to the southwest corner, which looked like a canyon, as we walked toward it.

"That's where the werewolf came in," he said. "Dad stopped repairing the fence completely after I was bitten. There didn't seem any reason to keep it up any more, but it was over six feet high when I was younger. The rocks tumbled outward at first, and he managed to climb up from the outside. The hole was only a foot wide, but he continued to push until he got through. I guess he heard me or could smell my sweat or something. Whatever it was drew him here drove him crazy."

Once we reached the corner, Remus began to climb over, reaching his hand back for me when he made the top. I took his hand, and we continued out across Exmoor.

"You can imagine how much fun I had playing on the moor after I was bitten. My parents knew I wasn't nearly as fragile then. Whatever minor scrapes I received almost always disappeared before I could even get home. I actually broke my arm one morning, and the fracture healed completely before supper. They were still overprotective, but they had another focus for their energies, since they knew I wasn't going to break. After that, they let me do pretty much what I wanted, unless the moon was full."

"You took horrible advantage of them, didn't you?"

"I may be a troublemaker, but I'm not that bad. I love my Mum and Dad. They could have had me destroyed, you know. Many people would have. Most wizards and witches would have contacted the Committee directly, but my parents didn't."

"Why didn't the doctors contact the Committee?"

"As distressed as they were, Mum and Dad had the presence of mind to take me to a Muggle hospital. The Wizarding hospital would have brought someone from the Committee in almost immediately. Of course, the Muggle doctors were shocked and suspicious when my injuries healed so quickly. We left before they asked too many questions ... Thankfully my parents could look past the monster and still see the son they loved ... Just like you."

"Not like me," I said, shaking my head.

Remus turned toward me suddenly.

"I've never once seen a monster," I said, still shaking my head.

He sighed. "You can say that even after you've seen my transformation?"

"Yes, Moony. I saw a man and a wolf, never a monster. You're a wonderful man. And you make a cute wolf, too."

"Oh, Wart!" He pecked my cheek. "You're sweet."

"Are we going anywhere in particular?"

"No, nowhere in particular. Just far enough that my parents won't hear."

"Positively incorrigible!"

"Seriously, there's a cave somewhere around here that I want you to see."

"Moony! Surely you don't expect—in a cave?!?"

"No, I just want you to show you some of my childhood haunts. We probably should wait until tomorrow, though."

"Isn't your night vision good?"

"Mine is excellent, but I doubt yours is, and it's getting cold. Shall we go back?"

I nodded, and we returned to the cottage. After taking our luggage upstairs, Remus showed me to the guest room and then showed me his childhood room, which was decorated for a much younger wizard.

"Sometimes I think Abram and Mildred Lupin are labouring under the delusion that I'm a perpetual teenager," he said sadly, sinking onto the bed.

"That's when you were happiest," I said, sitting beside him on the yellow-and-black Wimbourne Wasps bedspread and putting my arm around him. "You can't blame them for wanting to cling to those memories."

"No, that's when I was the second happiest. I suppose I'm going to have to mention casually that I'm thirty-seven now and the happiest I've ever been." He touched a finger to my nose.

"Thanks, Moony. I've never been happier either."

We kissed goodnight, and I returned to the guest room to get ready for bed. The bed was comfortable, but I didn't sleep as well as I normally would for lack of Remus beside me. It has always amazed me how quickly one can become accustomed to something one has lived without one's entire life.


	20. Caves and Children

When we last left our heroine, she'd bid a tearful farewell to her friendship with Professor Snape and went to Devon to meet Professor Lupin's parents. I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**XX: Caves and Children**

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I woke to the smell of eggs, bacon, and strong coffee. When I rolled over and stretched, I still half expected to find Remus beside me, but I was disappointed. Mrs Lupin knocked on the guest room door a short time later, and she seemed surprised to find me alone.

"Good morning, dear. Where's Remus?"

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. "In his room, I expect."

"Did you two have a falling out?" she asked, looking a little worried.

"No, Mildred," I answered, puzzled, shaking my head. "Why would you think that?"

"I thought he'd be in here with you, dear."

"Oh! Well, Remus said you and Mr Lupin were a little old fashioned."

She sat on the edge of the bed, patting my hand. "Melinda dear, we know the way of the wolf. The two of you are mated for life. That's more of a commitment than marriage, as far as my husband and I are concerned. After all, you cannot divorce from that. Abram and I would fully expect you to be in the same room."

I blushed a little, but I smiled nonetheless. "Thank you, Mildred. I'll see if I can drag him in here tonight."

She winked at me and, for a fleeting instant, her expression was exactly like Remus' most mischievous grin. "He is an attractive boy, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is," I said, giggling, with my face now burning fiercely.

"What's all this giggling about?" Remus asked from the doorway.

"Nothing," we ladies replied in unison.

"Hmmm ... I don't know if I believe that." Remus folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the door.

"Breakfast will be in ten minutes," Mrs Lupin said, walking to the door and pinching her son's cheek before heading downstairs.

"What are you two planning?" Remus asked, entering and sitting beside me on the bed.

"Oh, nothing," I said and kissed him.

"I wonder if I should believe you," he said, eyebrows rising.

"We aren't planning anything, I swear." I crossed my heart. "But, your parents aren't as old fashioned as you seem to think."

He looked adorably confused again. "What do you mean?"

"Your mum said, since we're mated for life, they already consider us more committed than a married couple."

"Really?"

I nodded.

"How long did Mum say until breakfast?"

"Ten minutes," I replied. "Why?"

"That should do nicely," he practically purred, attempting to lay me back onto the bed.

"Stop that!" I protested. "I'm hungry."

"So am I," he whispered against my neck.

I managed to discourage his advances for the time being and, after breakfast, Remus and I again trekked across the moor to look for his cave. We had been a few degrees off in our heading the previous evening, but he found the spot with little trouble in the daylight. The entrance was almost hidden by a bush, which he pulled back to allow me access. Inside we illuminated our wands until he found the old oil lantern he used as a child. He then crouched to light the lantern as I found a comfortable place to sit.

"Remember the night we met?" he asked, turning to face me.

"How could I forget?" I asked and ruffled his hair.

"Well, you asked if I'd lived in a cave all my life. I spent so much time in this cave and in caves in the Black Forest, it does seem that way. Sirius, James, and Peter loved to visit me on holidays because of this cave. They kept me company here many a full moon."

"I thought your parents locked you in the cellar."

"They did, but they couldn't hear anything once they went to bed."

"Your friends let you out?"

"Yes."

I gasped. "That was very dangerous!"

"I know," he said, shaking his head and sitting. "We were often foolish—too busy being impressed with how clever we were to feel remorse. But my friends tried their best to give me a normal life, like my parents and Dumbledore before them, and now you. You know, Wart, I've been fortunate to have known some wonderful people."

"I'm honoured to be included in that number. How did they manage it?"

"Letting me out?"

I nodded.

"Whilst Sirius and James transformed, Peter opened the door, and then Peter relocked the door whilst the others kept me at bay. Then Peter transformed and they guided me out, keeping me away from my parents. We wandered the moor or hid in this cave. I daresay Sirius did a lot to keep the legend of the demon hound of Exmoor alive. After I became human again, we'd all Apparate back to the cottage."

"Without a license?" I asked.

"Three of us were unregistered Animagi," Remus said, "and one of us was a monster that is universally hated and feared. Why would a little thing like Apparating illegally bother us?"

"Good point."

"I missed them so much whilst I was in Germany. Even Sirius. Even though I thought he'd betrayed Lily and James. And every morning after the full moon, I prayed for anaemia. I really did."

"I imagine so."

"Thankfully, I was never disappointed." He was crying, and I put my hand to his wet cheek.

"Moony, I will always be with you, and you'll always have the Wolfsbane Potion from now on. Your nightmare is over. You can wake up now to a happy day, every day for the rest of your life. And we have a steady, Muggle-based income, so you don't have to worry about other wizards shunning you any more. We are set. All we have to do is enjoy our life now."

"Wart, I don't know what I'd do without you!"

"You won't have to find out, either."

He pulled me tightly to him, speechless, and I rocked him, letting him cry. Remus was not prone to tears as a rule; for many years, however, his life was a veritable experiment in torture. I considered his tears not a weakness but rather a catharsis of all the anguish he'd carried so long. He was relieved to have me in his life—not only to love and be loved, but also to have another companion who could make his life normal again. My potion carried all the benefits of having James and Sirius with much fewer risks, and Remus felt he could never thank me enough. This gratitude was the well from which his tears sprang. What he didn't know was his thanks were completely unnecessary. I was just as grateful to be able to take care of him as he was to have me do so.

After the violence of his crying had passed, I risked speaking again. "What did you mean by Dumbledore was keeping you busy?" I asked.

"Oh," Remus said, wiping his eyes. "Well, Sirius isn't the only one who has been running errands."

"When did you have time to play errand-boy for the headmaster?"

"In the afternoons, whilst you were in the dungeon, and sometimes when you were asleep. I've still managed to keep the boarding house running smoothly."

"I know. You've done an admirable job."

"Thank you. But my most important errand doesn't take me away at all."

"What kind of errand is that?"

"You, actually."

"How do you mean?"

"Dumbledore wants me to look after you until you are a fully qualified witch. Of course, I would want to look after you anyhow, but I'm also under orders."

"Why? Is Voldemort after me or something?"

"Not that I am aware, but you are somewhat conspicuous, being an older student. And the headmaster thinks you will be useful to us one day."

"Us?"

"Those fighting Voldemort now he's returned."

"I see ... Moony, I don't know if this is the best time to bring this up, and it certainly won't change how I feel about you, but ... we've never talked about children."

"You aren't pregnant, are you, Wart?" He sat back to look at me.

"No, no. I'm taking birth control pills ... Don't you like children?"

"I adore children. Are you asking ... if I want to have children?"

"Yes."

"I ... I've never thought about it. Do you want children?"

"I must confess I do. You've never thought about children?"

"No, I haven't. It never really seemed an option, so I tried to save myself the heartache by not thinking about it."

"Well, it looks like that is an option now, or it will be soon."

"I suppose so ... You look worried, though."

"I am ... a little."

He licked his lips. "Lycanthropy isn't hereditary, if that's your concern."

My gaze fell to my lap. "I'm sorry, Moony."

"Don't be, Wart." He raised my chin to meet my eyes and then caressed my cheek. "I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy."

"Not even Voldemort?"

"No. He'd revel in it too much."

I smiled, shaking my head.

"My point is, I wouldn't want our children to endure being a werewolf, so I certainly cannot blame you for feeling the same way." A smile slowly grew on his face and, before I knew it, he was positively beaming at me.

"What is it, Moony?"

"What a wonderful thought! Our children, Wart..."

"That is a wonderful thought, isn't it?" Now I was crying. "Oh Moony, I love you so much!"

"I love you, too, Wart!"

For all my fastidiousness the previous night about not making love in a cave, I had no problem with that once we'd started. We were both so caught up in the moment that the locale didn't matter, and the soft light from the oil lamp gave the place rather a romantic glow, I thought. Afterward, Remus cast a Tidiness Charm to remove the fine layer of silt and mould from our clothing and hair, and we returned to his parents' cottage in time for lunch. The charm could not remove the flush from our cheeks nor the smiles from our faces, however, so I'm fairly certain Mr and Mrs Lupin knew what we were about that morning. Since they already considered Remus and I bonded for life, though, they said nothing—only smiled knowingly—which made us more.

With still a week to go until the wedding, I decided that morning to stop taking my birth control pills. A week more or less wouldn't matter. Even if I got pregnant the first time we had sex after I stopped taking the pill, we'd still be married long before anyone knew. I certainly wasn't going to wait until I graduated Hogwarts to get pregnant. The headmaster would understand, of course, and it was no question of loose morals, since I would be married. I only hoped I wouldn't go into labour on school grounds and be taken to the hospital wing. I liked Madame Pomfrey well enough, I suppose, but I wanted our children delivered the old fashioned way—sans magic.

The remainder of our visit with the elder Lupins was lovely. His parents pulled out the old photo albums to thoroughly embarrass Remus, with the standard pictures of him in the buff on a bearskin rug or at bath time, as well as some nice shots of James, Sirius, and Peter during their many holiday visits. Remus' parents liked his old school chums, even if they didn't particularly care for the nickname Sirius chose for him. And, although he told me they had been devastated when they'd learnt Pettigrew was Voldemort's spy, they were glad Sirius escaped. They had even harboured him once during his flight from the dementors. Remus said his father conjured the most powerful Patronus he had ever seen. The happy thought he concentrated on, Mr Lupin was proud to say, was the day he received Dumbledore's letter saying Remus could attend Hogwarts.

Sunday morning, after a late breakfast, Mrs Lupin asked to borrow me for a moment.

"What are you up to, Mum?" Remus asked suspiciously.

"Nothing that concerns you, Remus," Mrs Lupin replied, taking my arm. "This is just for us girls."

When we reached the master bedroom, she closed the door behind us. "You know the old Muggle wedding rhyme, don't you, dear?"

"What rhyme is that, Mildred?"

"Something old, something new—" she began.

"Something borrowed, something blue," I finished for her, nodding.

"Do you have all that?" she asked, rummaging through an old jewellery box.

"Yes. My dress is new, my garters are blue, I have an old cameo from my aunt, and I'm borrowing a set of combs from my maid of honour."

"Well, you do seem to have it covered, but most people these days are too young to remember the last bit of the rhyme, or to have what that line calls for."

"What's the last bit?"

"With a lucky sixpence in her shoe." She turned toward me holding an old coin. "I saved this from my wedding, and I want you to have it for yours." After placing the sixpence piece in my palm, she folded my fingers over the coin.

"Oh, thank you, Mildred!"

"I only have one request."

"What is that?"

"Please pass it on to your daughter or daughter-in-law for her wedding," she said. "I doubt Abram and I will live long enough to see that."

"Why do you say that? Professor Dumbledore has to be—"

"One hundred sixty-seven, I think," she interrupted. "Only very powerful wizards live to be that old, dear. Abram and I won't live nearly that long."

"Well, I hope you're wrong," I said and kissed her cheek.

"So do I, dear, but we must be practical ... I know you're still in school, but do try to have a child soon, won't you?"

I nodded. "I've stopped with my birth control just this morning."

I hesitated to tell her that, but she seemed happy to hear it. Due to their age, I think Remus' parents were anxious for grandchildren, as anxious as Remus and I discovered we were to have children the day before.

"Good," she said with a broad smile. "A child will make Remus so happy."

"Almost as happy as it will make me," I said, also grinning from ear to ear.

We went back downstairs then. Remus and I were packed and ready to leave shortly after lunch. After Mr and Mrs Lupin told us to say hello to Sirius for them and hugged us both good-bye, we went back to my sitting room in the early afternoon. Our Monday morning plans involved my taking Harry, Ron and Hermione to Diagon Alley to buy their sixth year and my second year supplies, whilst Remus took Sirius—in disguise as Professor Snape—for a tuxedo fitting. After the children went to bed that night, Sirius complimented our Polyjuice Potion.

"It was so realistic," he said. "I had to take a shower before I could stand to go anywhere."

"And that is saying something," Remus added, "since he's been living in a cave for the past year."

I knew I was no longer supposed to defend Professor Snape, but this time I thought it would do no harm, especially since the two of them were ganging up on him.

"You know, that oil on his hair is a protection against noxious potion fumes."

"Is it?" they both asked.

"I looked it up," I said, nodding. "If he were to accidentally drop a bottle of something poisonous, the oil would keep him conscious long enough to draw his wand and disperse the fumes. It's as much a protection for the students as it is for him."

"Don't say things like that!" Sirius moaned. "You'll make me start to like him!"

"I don't think you're in any danger of that," Remus said, with a wry grin.

The next week passed quickly. Friday night, I moved downstairs with Hermione. Mr and Mrs Lupin—who arrived just before teatime—took Ron and Harry's room, which left the upstairs rooms to the single men. I wasn't worried the bachelor party would get out of control with two teenagers present, although I imagined even Ron and Harry might be hung over the next day.

In the morning, I had arranged for Hermione, the elder Lupins, and I to have our breakfast brought up to our rooms, but I didn't feel guilty about letting the males upstairs fend for themselves. We'd decorated the church fully on Thursday and the Friday night rehearsal went exceptionally well.

After lunchtime on Saturday, Sirius, Remus, and Remus' parents Apparated to the church, whilst I brought the children in my car. We didn't plan for a large ceremony, but I was surprised at the number of people who attended—Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, and some others of Remus' friends I didn't yet know: Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, and Ron's parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley. Charles and Gladys Tucker also attended, in addition to our permanent residents from the boarding house.

I'd asked the headmaster to give me away, and Professor Dumbledore had placed a charm on his hair and beard so they would appear short and tidy to the Muggles in the church. In fact, I think the headmaster's charm may have extended to the other wizards and witches as well. Those who didn't have as strong a background of dealing with Muggles as I did looked positively ridiculous in their attempts at Muggle garb, but our Muggle guests didn't seem to notice. Professor McGonagall came into the dressing room momentarily to tell me how lovely I looked and to wish me luck. She then bustled back to her seat. When the music started, Professor Dumbledore knocked on the door.

"It appears the time has come, Miss Rhoades, Miss Granger," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, giving me a quick hug before heading out of the room.

"If I may say so, you look enchanting, Miss Rhoades."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

He offered his arm. "Shall we?"

"Let's," I answered, smiling.


	21. The Wedding, and Back to School

When we last left our heroine, she was just about to walk down the aisle. Dum, dum da dum. Dum, dum da dum. I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades is 100% mine.

  


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**XXI: The Wedding, and Back to School**

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I'd never got married before, so I have nothing to which I can compare the feeling I had when I walked down the aisle on Professor Dumbledore's arm. All I can say is, without a doubt, that was one of the happiest days of my life. Everyone in the church beamed at me, including Sirius in his Professor Snape disguise, and my face positively ached from grinning before the day was done. Remus had never looked more handsome, and I don't think I've ever looked or felt more beautiful. I cried all over my Victorian gown, of course, as did Hermione. I only thank God for waterproof mascara. The ceremony was just long enough for the female guests to need copious amounts of tissue, but not long enough for the male guests to become bored.

Our guests no doubt thought it odd that the groom was snapping away photos of one among their number in the first row. The several good shots of Harry's reaction to Sirius' disguise, however, were quite worth the other guests' reactions. We'd let Ron in on the joke the night before. Although they do move, wizarding photos make no sound. Nevertheless, one can quite clearly make out Harry mouthing, "What the (expletive removed) is he doing here?!?" Then there are two lovely shots taken shortly thereafter of Ron whispering in Harry's ear and Harry looking much relieved. The last—my personal favourite—is of Sirius as Snape doubled over in laughter.

When the professional photographer had taken his lot pictures after the ceremony, the guests queued up to kiss the bride. Professor Dumbledore, once he'd pecked my cheek and shook Remus' hand, quietly muttered "Interesting choice, Sirius," to the figure of Professor Snape. Afterward, the guests adjourned to the boarding house for the reception. If anyone thought the lack of fine silverware tacky, they didn't show that. I personally didn't care very much if they did. Hermione caught the bouquet, and Harry caught the garter. I'm not sure what that means, if anything, but Remus and I chuckled about that for months afterward. We're still convinced they would make a lovely couple.

The festivities carried on until the wee hours. "Professor Snape" curiously had to visit the loo every hour on the hour for the benefit of the Muggles present, who would undoubtedly remember Sirius Black from news broadcasts on the telly. The Weasleys, after giving Ron an embarrassing amount of affection, politely took their leave before teatime, and the elder Lupins also left not long after that. The headmaster, Professor McGonagall and Hagrid stayed until we took the party upstairs after nine, when Sirius dispensed with the Polyjuice Potion. Arabella Figg and Mundungus Fletcher, being old friends of both Sirius and Remus, stayed until quite late.

Our wedding night might not have been the pinnacle of romance but, as we had been living together for almost a year prior to the ceremony, consummating the marriage was not the highest act on our list of priorities. Remus was much more interested in visiting with his old friends. I would never deny him that particular pleasure, especially since I liked all of his friends a great deal.

Despite the animated conversation taking place around them, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all dropped off on the sitting room floor between midnight and two, and I covered them with blankets in my typical motherly way. When Arabella and Mundungus finally left, and Sirius fell asleep on the couch, Remus and I fell into bed, too exhausted to think of anything other than sleep, at around five Sunday morning. After breakfast at noon, Sirius unfortunately had to leave us for an unknown period, but he promised he would keep in touch by owl.

The fall term at Hogwarts started the following Wednesday and, by Halloween, I was fairly certain I was pregnant. I saw Madam Pomfrey first, but she suggested I seek a second opinion, as pregnancy was not something with which she normally dealt among Hogwarts students. After seeing my regular Muggle physician, the good news was confirmed. To say Remus was ecstatic would be a horrid understatement, but I cannot think of any more fitting description. For several days, it seemed he wanted to do nothing other than nuzzle or talk to my belly. He also began to fuss over me with more fervour than I had ever shown at my absolute worst in caring for him.

Life was not all pleasant, however. During my next two terms at Hogwarts, Professor Snape was as good as his word. The drop in my marks alone would never have bothered me. Unfortunately for me, Snape had an acerbically sharp wit, and his gibes cut me deeply. More often than not, Harry, Ron and Hermione found me sulking after Potions.

Whilst the Slytherins were in hysterics, I occasionally caught the faintest hint of regret in Snape's eyes. When I dared meet his gaze, however, he always looked away. But the brief show of remorse, along with remembering the difficulty of his position, allowed me to endure. Only once was I wounded enough to cry, in late spring after the return of our third exam of term, although the remarks started innocuously enough.

"Mrs Lupin appears to be slipping," Snape said with a sneer as he placed the roll of parchment on the desk in front of me. "Finally allowed Jones and Roddington to pull ahead of you, Mrs Lupin ... I told the headmaster I thought it was a bad idea to allow married students to attend Hogwarts."

As Snape continued to pass out exams, I set my jaw and steeled myself, since I suspected he wasn't finished with me yet. After all, the Slytherins were only tittering at this point.

"If you spent more time on your studies, and less time in the boudoir with your husband, I imagine you would be able to keep up."

Slytherin students were openly laughing now but, even though I felt as if steam were coming out my ears, I merely stared at my desk.

"Perhaps you could prop open your book on Mr Lupin's chest," Snape continued, his deep baritone as smooth as silk sliding over satin, "or convince him to read over your shoulder."

I jumped from my chair—as well as I could, being seven months pregnant—glaring at him. Snape stared directly into my eyes, leaning against his desk. He reached behind him and retrieved his copy of our Potions text from off his desk without ever taking his eyes off me.

"Your husband might appreciate the change of scenery." He lifted the Potions text, apparently comparing the hag on the cover to me. "This would indeed be rather a pleasant alternative."

The Slytherins clutched their sides and rolled in the aisles between their desks. All the Gryffindors scowled at our Potions master on my behalf. Snape, however, never removed his searing gaze from me. When he dropped his book on the desk with a loud bang, the torrent of my tears began. This time I saw no guilt in his eyes, although his shoulders slumped somewhat as he began to write on the chalkboard. I turned and ran from the dungeon.

I'm not completely certain the tears that day weren't due to the constant hormonal flux my body was experiencing. But being told I was uglier than a hag by a former friend—especially when my growing belly made me feel less attractive by the hour—proved far too much to deal with. Thankfully, I didn't have to bear it alone. As I emerged from the stairwell down to the dungeon, I ran headlong into Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who had a break this hour.

"What's wrong, Wart?" Hermione asked, stunned.

"Professor Snape," was all I could manage to say between sobs.

The three of them led me outside and toward the lake, where, when they had managed to calm me down, I explained all the details of my morning in Potions.

"I would love to kill that—" Ron began.

"Ron!" Hermione interjected sharply, anticipating a colourful but unflattering noun's issuing from Ron's mouth.

"That's sweet of you, Ron, but I'll survive," I said, with a hand on his shoulder. "After all, they were only words ... although I don't understand why he felt it necessary to get so ... personal. Especially in front of the other second years. I mean, they're children, for heaven's sake, and here he is talking about my sex life in class."

"Wart, I think it's rather obvious you have sex with your husband," Harry said, with a smirk and a glance at my tummy.

"Yes, Harry, I know it's obvious," I said, shoving him by his brow until he toppled backward on the grass. "But it still seemed ... unprofessional ... of him. Even though he may be a nasty sort, you cannot deny he's always professional. I wouldn't expect him to ... talk like that ... in front of children."

"Perhaps he's jealous," Hermione suggested. "Has he ever shown any signs of...?"

"He kissed me once," I said offhandedly, shrugging. All three of them shuddered and made disgusted noises. "But that was a long time ago. Remus and I were trying to make him think we'd parted ways. He saw through our ruse, but he was extremely apologetic when he'd learnt we were engaged."

Harry and Ron were pretending to vomit, when Hermione leant in close and whispered, "How was he?"

"Not bad, actually," I whispered in reply.

"Well, he's probably still not over you," she announced with more volume. "And your pregnancy would only make him feel worse, wouldn't it? A physical reminder that Moony has you, and he never will."

"You may be right, Herm," I said, rubbing my stomach as pregnant women are wont to do without thinking about the gesture. "But why would he wait until today? I've been showing for a couple of months now."

All three of them shrugged.

"Well, you're having lunch with us today," Harry said. "Maybe we can sort this out."

I nodded and they helped me to my feet so we could be off to our next class. Two hours later, I stepped into the Great Hall, looking for the three of them. I could feel Professor Snape's black eyes fixed on me from the staff table, but my apprehension cleared as Ron waved from the Gryffindor table. For the last few months, I had been Flooing home for lunch with Remus everyday. Now I was further along in my pregnancy, I had trouble with the benches. I sat with some difficulty and started to eat. We talked for most of lunch about Snape's possible motivation, in the end coming up with nothing more than we'd deduced that morning by the lake.

"It was rude and crass and quite unworthy of him," I said. "I've always tried to give Professor Snape the benefit of the doubt, but after today—" The children's eyes had been growing rounder and rounder as I spoke, and I broke off when I realised why. "He's behind me, isn't he?"

Three heads nodded slowly.

"Mrs Lupin, may I see you in my office?" I remembered that tone. That was his commanding question tone. "After you've finished your ... considerable ... lunch, that is." The warmth near my shoulder told me he was craning his neck to have a better view of my plate.

"Why?" Harry asked impertinently. "Because she still has a shred of dignity left?"

"That will be five points from Gryffindor, Potter," Snape said. "Would you care to make it ten?"

Harry said nothing else, wisely choosing to seethe silently instead.

"We must discuss your detention," Snape continued silkily, "for bolting from the dungeon this morning."

"After the things you said to her?" Hermione retorted.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Snape replied pleasantly. "Moving Gryffindor further from the House Cup is by far my favourite dessert. Another five points."

"Stop," I whispered, looking pleadingly at each of their faces in turn. "I am fully capable of fighting my own battles."

"But, Wart—?" Ron began.

I silenced him with a motherly look. "I'll be along to the dungeons directly after I've finished, Professor Snape."

"I will expect you no later than a quarter of one," Snape replied. A swish of robes indicated he turned to leave, rather quickly.

"And you used to be friends with him ... why?" Harry asked, shrugging, palms outstretched.

"Once upon a time, I thought he was nice," I said with a sigh.

"Had to be a Confundus Charm," Ron muttered, staring into his soup.

My legs wobbled when I descended the steps to the dungeon a few minutes later. I had recovered the majority of my composure, but I was by no means looking forward to round two. After not seeing Professor Snape in the classroom, I walked toward his office door as bravely as I could. When I knocked on the open door, he looked up from his desk impassively.

"Don't dawdle," he said with a hint of irritation in his voice. "Come in and close the door." The second the latch clicked, he stood. "Oh, Melinda, I'm sorry!" He rushed toward me with one hand extended in my direction and the other on his chest. "I never meant to make you cry. I thought you understood that this was all an act."

"Very convincing performance," I said, burying my face in my hands, sobbing again. So much for my composure. Snape put his arm about my shoulders, leading me to a chair. He offered me a handkerchief once I was seated. "You ... you didn't mean all those awful things?"

"No! Of course not!" He knelt by the chair, his arm still around me, as I wiped my eyes. "I think you're a bright, lovely woman. Nevertheless, I have been under rather a lot of pressure of late, among certain Death Eaters. I thought—if I were to step up my insults—I might finally get them off my back and draw suspicions off you. I even thought for half a heartbeat you were acting as well. Your reaction could not have been more perfect."

"Those tears were completely genuine. But ... but I'm not sure it isn't ... Well, pregnancy does have a tendency to make one overemotional."

His black eyes showed both the warmth of affection and regret. "I heartily apologise."

"Apology accepted, Severus ... What is it the Death Eaters suspect about me?"

"Well, not so much about you ... But they know your husband is an unofficial Auror, and they know in the past I've given you entirely too much help outside of class."

"Are you in danger?"

"I don't believe so. Not after today. Again, I am so sorry."

"What about Remus? Is he in any danger?"

"Not that I know of. He is fairly well hidden, isn't he? To all appearances, a Muggle businessman? Not a bad disguise for a wizard ... or a werewolf. But I shouldn't worry about him. Lupin is fully capable of looking after himself."

"I think that is the nicest thing I've ever heard you say about him, Severus."

He shrugged and I smiled.

"I knew he couldn't be all bad—not if you love him," Snape added. "Brace yourself, because I'm about to sing his praises a little more. We are fortunate to have him on our side. I'd never thought about why before you and I became friends, but Lupin's immune to the Killing Curse."

"_Avada Kedavra_?" I asked in a whisper.

He nodded. "While that curse will put him out of commission for several weeks, it's not silver, you see, so it won't kill him. Death Eaters who don't know ... his secret ... have been surprised to see him take that curse more than once."

"He's been attacked with it before?"

"At least three times I know of. Potter may be famous as the 'boy who lived,' but I've heard Lupin referred to as 'the wizard who wouldn't die'."

My jaw dropped. "They've never put together why?"

He shook his head. "And thankfully, I never realised that fact when I was serving the Dark Lord in earnest, or I would have said so."

"Remus owes you his life, Severus."

"No, Melinda. Lupin owes his life to the werewolf who attacked him."

"How is that for irony?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Right up there with the Dark Lord being a Mudblood," Snape said, smirking.

"That must be why Dumbledore wanted Remus to guard me."

"I imagine so. Melinda, even though I feel dreadful about making you cry, I am rather glad you stormed out of the dungeon this morning. I've been wanting to talk to you, but I wasn't sure how I could arrange that without arousing any more suspicion."

"Well, what about my detention?" I asked.

"Come back tonight at seven to prepare the potion you've missed today," he answered, standing and patting my arm. "And bring Lupin. I have some information for him. I've informed the headmaster already, but Dumbledore wants me to personally pass this on to him. We'll talk tonight whilst you work."

I stood, nodding, and gave him a quick hug. "This has been far more difficult than I thought it would be."

"Likewise," he said, nodding sadly. "I've so missed our talks ... Now, if you'd care to wash your face before you leave?" He directed me to a washbasin in the corner. "Interesting disguise Black chose for your wedding," he added nonchalantly, as I began to wash my face.

I turned suddenly, stammering. "S-s-s-everus, I—I'm—I'm s-sorry."

"You mistake me, Melinda," he said, smiling. "I'm not angry. I thought it quite clever. I expect Potter was taken aback."

"To say the least. That hasn't caused you any trouble, has it?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

"No," he said, raising a hand and shaking his head. "I didn't hear of it from Death Eaters. The headmaster told me." His brow furrowed. "How did you ... how did you procure the hairs?"

My modesty prevented me from looking him in the eye, so I concentrated on washing my face. "The day my Wolfsbane Potion first worked..."

His eyes grew wide, and he turned orange. "Oh! I'd quite forgotten that. You must have been covered—"

"We found ten hairs we were fairly sure belonged to you."

"Ah," he said, smiling and nodding. "Congratulations, by the way. When are you due?"

"The sixteenth of June."

He cocked an eyebrow. "That's a full moon, if I'm not mistaken."

"Unfortunately," I said with a loud sigh, drying my face. "So the baby is almost guaranteed to be on time."

"Do you think you can manage labour alone?"

"Actually, I won't have to. We imagined Remus wouldn't be able to make the birth, so Harry volunteered to be my Lamaze coach."

"Potter?" Snape asked incredulously.

"Yes," I said, smiling. "He's very mature for seventeen. And he's also going to be the godfather, so it's fitting, don't you think?"

"I suppose so." As Snape opened his office door to usher me out, his manner reverted. "Seven sharp, Mrs Lupin. If you are late, I will deduct fifty points from Gryffindor House without a second thought. Mind you don't flee my class again unless you are headed for the hospital wing."

"Yes, Professor Snape," I said meekly, although I couldn't repress a touch of a smile once I was on my way to my next class.


	22. Twins and Detention

When we last left our heroine, she and Professor Lupin had a lovely wedding and, a few months later, she discovered she was pregnant. Also, after months of animosity, she finally had another nice conversation with Professor Snape inspired, ironically enough, by increased animosity. I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades Lupin is 100% mine.

  


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**XXII: Twins and Detention**

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At my next medical appointment, later that afternoon, my Muggle obstetrician said she was "concerned" with the baby's growth. Naturally, worrywart that I am, I immediately sat up on the exam table, panic in my eyes.

"Concerned?" I practically screeched. "What cause is there for concern?"

"This is good concern, Melinda, not bad concern," she soothed. The woman knew me far too well. "Since this is your first pregnancy, you probably haven't noticed your baby is growing exceptionally quickly."

"What does that mean?" I asked, my hands instinctively caressing my belly. I always thought I'd started showing a bit too early but, like she said, I had no basis for comparison.

"It could mean several things although, due to Occam's razor, I am inclined to seek the simplest explanation. Tell me, do you have any twins in your family?"

"My mother was a twin. But I'm not."

"It usually skips a generation. Anyhow, I think you may be having twins," she said, smiling broadly.

"Oh my! Remus will be thrilled! Are you sure?"

She shook her head. "I'm fairly sure I hear two distinct heartbeats but, at this stage, we can't determine anything for certain without an ultrasound. Are you or your husband averse to knowing the sex beforehand?"

"Not at all. We just didn't think an ultrasound was covered by National Health."

"It isn't when the procedure is performed merely for sex determination. But, as I cannot best treat two babies by treating them as one, I think we can swing it."

"Would you mind if I ring Remus first to ask him, just in case?"

"Certainly not. You may use the phone on the desk. I'll ... just ... pop out and be back in a few minutes."

"Thank you, doctor."

I walked to the desk and dialled Remus at home. By this time, he was almost accustomed to using the telephone, but not completely. When he picked up, his voice was muffled. I had to speak loudly on my end, but I turned my back to the door and covered the mouthpiece so my raised voice would be as inconspicuous as possible.

"Remus! Remus! Turn the receiver around! You have it the wrong way!"

_"Wart, is that you?"_

_Much better_, I thought. "Yes, Moony, it's me."

_"Is everything all right?"_

"Everything is fine, but the doctor wants to know if you mind knowing the baby's sex."

_"What? Why?"_

"She wants to do an ultrasound."

He didn't say anything for a few seconds. _"What's wrong with the baby?"_ he asked at last.

"Nothing's wrong with the baby, Moony. The obstetrician just wants to do an ultrasound."

_"Be straight with me, Wart. Something must be wrong if she wants to do that. You said Muggle National Health doesn't pay for that procedure."_

"Under normal circumstances, no. But the circumstances aren't normal."

_"Wart, you're scaring me!"_

"The doctor wants to see something, but I promise it isn't bad. Will you just trust me?"

Only silence answered.

"Come on, Moony. Yes or no?"

I could almost hear him shrug. _"I suppose yes. Will you come home straightaway and tell me, whatever it is?"_

"Of course I will. I promise I'll be home directly."

_"Soon?"_

"It shouldn't take long."

_"I'm going to be a wreck until you get here, you know that?"_

"Don't worry, Moony. Everything is fine. I love you."

_"I love you. I'll see you soon?"_

"Yes. Bye." As I hung up, the doctor knocked and came back in, rolling a cart with the ultrasound apparatus.

"So, do we want to know what we have?" she asked.

"We do," I replied.

She swivelled the cart round so I could see the monitor. Then she popped a tape into the attached video recorder and pressed the record button. I lay back on the table, and the doctor raised my gown to spread cold jelly on my abdomen. She spread the jelly further as she quickly moved the probe all around my stomach. Then she began to move the probe more slowly.

"Congratulations, Mrs Lupin! We definitely have twins. This one," the doctor said moving the probe to the left side of my stomach, "looks like a boy." She slid the probe across to the right and added, "And this one ... is a also a boy."

"That's wonderful! I can't wait to tell Remus ... Does everything else look in order?"

"Absolutely. Two extremely healthy-looking babies."

"Identical or fraternal?" I asked.

"Too early to tell. What was your mother?"

"Oh, I expect she was fraternal, since my uncle was her twin."

"Unless your uncle had a sex change," she said, chuckling. "Well, then we can be relatively sure your twins are fraternal."

"Thank you, doctor."

She turned the machine off, cleaned the jelly off my skin, and ejected the tape, which she labelled "Lupin Twins." After she handed me the tape, I dressed as quickly as I could and drove home. Remus was pacing when I walked in, and he ran to me.

"What's wrong?" he asked, frantically, grabbing my arms.

"Nothing's wrong—I told you—but—"

"But what?"

"It's official: I'm having a litter."

"What?" he asked, adorably confused.

"Twins, Moony! We're having twins!"

"Twins?!? Is that all? Merlin's beard, Wart! I've been beside myself here!"

"I'm sorry. I wanted to surprise you."

When the news finally sunk in, he sighed and kissed me. "We're having twins! That's wonderful!"

"Now that's closer to the reaction I was hoping for," I said, wrapping my arms round his neck. "It's fitting, isn't it? Having twins who will probably be Geminis?"

"That's bad," Remus said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Four's a crowd," he said with a smirk. "Boys or girls?"

"Boys, although they're probably not identical."

He hugged me incredibly tightly.

"Moony, this is decidedly uncomfortable."

"Oh, so sorry, Wart. I'm just so happy."

"I know you're happy, but that's no reason to squash me. I'm liable to pop, like an engorged tick." I reached inside my bag and held up the tape. "So, do you want to have a look at your sons?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

He viewed the ultrasound with rapt attention, sitting on the sofa with both arms wrapped around my stomach. We had already decided—if we had a boy—he was going to be Remus Jeremiah Junior. Well, I put my foot down, and Remus eventually gave in, although we had not yet thought of a name for a girl. Now we knew we were having twin boys, we'd have to think of another name, and I pondered this whilst we watched the tape.

"What do you think of 'Romulus James'?" I asked, as I turned off the telly afterward.

"Please tell me you're joking," Remus said, rubbing his eyes.

"No, I'm serious."

"I can't fault 'James,' but why on earth would you want to name a baby 'Romulus'?"

"Think about it."

"I caught the allusion: Twin boys ... Romulus and Remus ... Suckled by a she-wolf. Very funny."

"Oh, I'd forgotten the she-wolf bit. I just remembered their founding Rome."

"Neither of us is Italian, so that's not a good enough reason."

"Well, the 'James' is for James Potter, of course, and with 'Romulus,' all three of you will have the same initials."

"Yes, but that would be true with 'Roger' or 'Roderick' or 'Robert' or any other normal name starting with an 'R'. Believe me, Melinda ... I've been a 'Remus' all my life, and having an odd name isn't fun."

"Well, then, why didn't you go by 'Jeremiah'?"

"That's even worse, but I latched onto 'Moony' good and proper."

"We can call them 'Rom' and 'Rem'."

"Computer memory and dream sleep? Charming!"

"Well, 'Rommie' and 'Remmie,' then."

"That's not any better."

"But 'Romulus and Remus' has such a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"No."

"I have only two words for you: 'Wormtail' and 'Wart'."

"I thought you liked 'Wart'."

"I've ... got used to it. Come on, Moony! Your sons will be natural-born leaders. And they need strong names to reflect that. They might even found their own city some day."

He smirked. "All right, you've convinced me. 'Romulus James' it is. But we're calling them James and Jerry."

I nodded. "That's perfectly fine with me."

Before I went to the obstetrician, I told Remus about my day and my "detention" later that night. He was naturally curious as to why I hadn't come home for lunch and why Snape needed to talk to him. I was surprised, however, that he was not more upset with my treatment at the Potions master's hands that morning.

I still hadn't told Remus the truth about the supposed row, so I thought he'd be extremely angry when I told him what Professor Snape said. Instead, he seemed to take it in stride. To my extreme surprise, when we stepped from the hearth in the dungeon office, Remus and Snape shook hands. I gaped for a few seconds before I could speak.

"When did the two of you become such good friends?" I asked.

"Why should you be surprised, Wart?" Remus asked.

"After all, you were the one playing peacemaker," Snape added.

I sighed. "That's why you didn't get upset when I told you what he said this morning!"

"I happen to know the Death Eaters have been exhaustively searching for their spy," Remus replied. "And I gave Severus some suggestions as to what might upset you the most."

"You didn't tell her?" Snape asked sharply.

My husband shook his head.

"No wonder you were upset, Melinda. You should have told her, Lupin."

"Well, she didn't fool you about our break-up, Severus, so she's apparently not the world's best actress."

I glared at him.

"I'm sorry, Wart," he said, shrugging. "It was vital that you be convincing. Severus' very life was on the line."

I covered my eyes with my hand and sighed. "Oh, Severus, a few tears on my part is nothing compared to your life." Then I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "You are very brave. Please forgive me."

"That's quite all right, Melinda," he said, flushing a bit orange and turning away with his hand on my back. "Let's get you started on your potion. Lupin and I have much to discuss."

Snape had already written a list of potion ingredients on the chalkboard and he handed me a book—not our regular Potions text—opened to a page with the instructions. He and Remus drug my cauldron to the front of the room. As they headed for the office as I looked over the components: one rat spleen, a dash of leech juice, a sliced caterpillar, daisy roots, and one skinned shrivelfig.

"Professor Snape?" I asked, and he turned. Remus also wheeled mid-stride. "This isn't the potion we were doing this morning, is it?"

"No," Snape said, smiling and pointing lazily at the chalkboard. "That's a third year Shrinking Potion. The Swelling Potion from this morning would be child's play for you. This is a detention, after all."

With a shrug and a smile, I started immediately. Snape and Remus then disappeared into the office. I couldn't hear what they were discussing, and I suspected Snape had cast a Silencing Charm on his office. The sound faded slowly as the office door swung to, but ceased altogether once the latch clicked. He had probably done the same for our talk after lunch, in case any Slytherins decided to lurk in the dungeon.

An hour later, as I was reaching the end of my preparation, they finally emerged from the door at the back of the dungeon. Snape strode toward my cauldron, a baby bird chirping in hand. He scooped out a spoonful of the potion and dribbled some of the bright green concoction into the bird's beak. The bird was quiet momentarily whilst swallowing, and the potion acted with a slight pop. Snape eyed the small egg in his palm.

"Well done." He produced a vial from the folds of his robes, shaking a few drops onto the egg. After another crack, the bird reappeared, as loud as ever. Snape then waved his wand, closing the dungeon door. "_Silencium_. Successful completion of a third year potion would give me sufficient grounds to restore the ten points I deducted from Gryffindor this morning," he continued. "But I think I should let that stand for appearance's sake, don't you?"

"Probably. Er—Severus, you swore me to secrecy about our arrangement. Why are you talking about this freely in front of Remus?"

"I swore you to secrecy," he replied. "I can confide in whomever I choose."

My husband only grinned.

"Yes, but you don't trust Remus, remember?"

"Oh ... well ... You've convinced me Lupin's trustworthy," Snape said, shrugging. "And I decided to take you up on that offer of help before it was too late."

After that, we returned to the office to start home. Before we stepped into the fire, however, Snape caught Remus' arm.

"Be careful, Lupin."

"You do the same, Severus."

They shook hands, almost warmly this time. Then I kissed Snape's cheek again before Remus and I stepped into the flames.

"So, what was that all about?" I asked after we emerged from the sitting room hearth.

Remus shook his head. "I can't tell you. For your own safety."

"Remus," I warned.

"I'm sorry, Wart, but it's really better you not know."

"Why?"

"You'd only worry."

I pouted. "You don't trust me."

"I do trust you. But if I worked for the government, would you ask me the details of my work?"

"No," I admitted, sulking.

"This is the same thing."

I resigned myself to not knowing this information with a sigh. In fact, I've never learnt what Remus and Snape discussed that night, although I had my suspicions as to some of the conversation. Snape mentioned Remus' immunity to the Killing Curse, I imagine, and warned him to watch for Death Eaters who might eventually try a silver sword on him. I also never discovered what Remus was supposed to do as a result of the information Snape had given him. Remus did not leave to go on any mission that I know of. I'll admit, however, I am a heavy sleeper and would have easily missed it if he left after I was asleep and returned before I woke.

Before Snape mentioned the fact that day, I had no suspicions Remus was an Auror. Of course, I knew he'd joined in battle against Voldemort when he first rose to power. And I knew Voldemort had returned. But, for some reason, it took a while for me to put together the little "errands" he performed on Dumbledore's behalf were strikes against the Dark Lord. Or perhaps they weren't. They could have been nothing more than reconnaissance. At this stage, that seemed likely. For now, Voldemort was still in hiding, but I was sure he would only gain more strength and more followers as the months wore on.

Living with an Auror isn't so taxing as one might believe. Granted, Remus wasn't an Auror by trade, only by circumstance. A reservist, I suppose. He'd proven himself in battle, however, and Dumbledore thought him quite capable, as did Snape, even if they were never going to be the best of friends. My heart was certainly warmed, however, by the handshaking I witnessed that day. Remus and Snape had at least called an indefinite truce. But war does have a tendency to bring out the best in people. I was under the impression even Sirius would gladly fight side by side with Snape against Voldemort, and vice versa.

I didn't realise the full implications of the situation then, but we were indeed at war. It didn't feel like a war. There was no rationing; there were no bombings or blackouts. But we were most certainly at war. It was more than Dumbledore against Voldemort, more than purebloods against Mud-bloods. This was a war of good against evil. And it was just as well I wasn't fully aware of the fact or I would have developed several ulcers owing to Remus' involvement. I was already quite on edge due to Snape's situation. The rest would have surely driven me over the precipice.

Thankfully I didn't know and, for the time being, I was free to concentrate on my studies until the end of term. My final marks in Potions were acceptable, though nothing spectacular, and I did surprisingly well in Defence Against the Dark Arts, thanks at least in part to my exceptionally handsome and attentive tutor. My Lamaze classes also went extremely well. Harry and I graduated from that class with exemplary marks, and we felt we were fully prepared when the time came. Hermione's parents had recently taken her for her driver's test, so she volunteered to drive us to the hospital when I went into labour. My first instinct was to be less than thrilled about the possibility of having a teenager drive me, but then I remembered which teenager this was. If Hermione put half the studying into her driving that she put into everything else, I knew we would be perfectly safe.


	23. The Conclusion

When we last left our heroine, she and Professor Lupin discovered they were having twins, and Melinda performed her "detention" admirably. Plans were made for the birth, and now they only have to wait until she goes into labor. I don't own anything Harry Potterish, although Melinda Rhoades Lupin is 100% mine.

  


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**XXIII: The Conclusion**

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Two weeks before my due date and the full moon in June, Harry, Ron, and Hermione again came to stay with us at the boarding house. This time, Ron and Hermione both had their own rooms downstairs, but Harry opted to sleep on our sofa. He didn't mind in the least. It was far better than his cupboard under the stairs with the Dursleys, he said. Our three visitors were even interested in watching me prepare the Wolfsbane and anti-anaemia potions. If not for their collective dislike of Professor Snape, they probably would have enjoyed Potions class. Remus expressed concerns about the potion fumes being bad for the babies but, after another secret consultation with Snape, these fears were laid to rest. And the two weeks before my due date passed with only one incidence of false labour.

The night of the sixteenth, Remus took his potion and then brushed his teeth, kissing me tenderly before going to the Shrieking Shack. He took the anti-anaemia potion with him, as well as a sleeping draught, hoping if he slept through most of his transformation, he would be able to join me at the hospital as soon as possible after the birth. If I went into labour whilst the moon was still up, however, that would only make the situation worse. But we couldn't very well bring a wolf along, regardless of whether he was asleep or not. I doubted claims of a seeing-eye wolf would get us very far with the hospital staff. Besides, because of Professor Snape's warnings, we weren't completely sure Remus was safe around humans, despite taking the Wolfsbane Potion.

At around ten, I said good night to Harry and waddled to bed. Thankfully, wizarding robes make perfect maternity clothes, and this was all I wore by this time. I was fully as big as a house, and I just hoped I would go into labour soon. I certainly didn't want to go overdue. At this rate, I felt I would be the size of Hogwarts castle in another week. Sometime later, I drifted off to sleep and woke at a little before five, in excruciating pain and sopping wet.

My water had broken.

"Harry!" I called from the bedroom. "Harry, ring the doctor!"

Harry jumped from the sofa, wide awake from a dead sleep only seconds before. You have to love the boy for that—always ready at a moment's notice. He was better than a Boy Scout.

"Don't panic, Wart!" He had the receiver to his ear, dialling, as I waddled from the bedroom with my suitcase in hand. His command, I think, was more for his benefit than mine.

"I'm not panicking. I just wanted to make certain you were awake."

"Breathe, Wart! Breathe—"

"I'm breathing, Harry, I'm breathing! Whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo."

"Hello, doctor? This is Harry Potter. Yes, Mrs Lupin is in labour."

Harry covered the receiver momentarily, whilst listening to the doctor's instructions, and pulled his wand to cast a charm on me. Instantly, I was dry and fully dressed. He hadn't told me he'd practised this charm, and I smiled whilst still breathing in short bursts.

"All right. Okay. Thanks awfully. We'll see you soon." He hung up and immediately rang Ron and Hermione's rooms. "Get dressed! It's time!" was all he said to them but, when he'd replaced the receiver, he told me the doctor would meet us at the hospital in twenty minutes. He took my case and he proceeded to help me downstairs. Ron and Hermione joined us in the car park within five minutes, and we were on our way. Hermione drove, Harry coached, I breathed, and Ron fretted.

"What time is it? Whoo, whoo, whoo," I said as we pulled into the hospital's car park.

"Five nineteen," Ron said from the back seat.

"Good. Whoo, whoo, whoo. The moon will set in—whoo, whoo, whoo—twelve minutes. Whoo, whoo, whoo."

"Moony might make it after all," Hermione said, turning off the engine.

"I certainly hope so. Whoo, whoo, whoo."

Inside of another five minutes, I was put into a wheelchair, wheeled into a room for observation, changed into a hospital gown, and placed in bed. I breathed and Harry kindly let me claw his arm to pieces during each of my contractions. On the first check, my cervix was at three centimetres and my contractions seven minutes apart. Ten minutes later, I was at five centimetres and five minutes.

"Do you want me to go back and wait for Moony?" Hermione asked.

"No, Herm. Whoo, whoo, whoo. There isn't time. Whoo, whoo, whoo. He'll Apparate here."

At the next check, after another ten minutes, I was at seven centimetres and three minutes. Then, looking pale and exhausted but extremely happy, Remus walked into the room. He rushed to me and kissed my hand.

"Moony! Whoo, whoo, whoo. I'm so glad you could make it."

"You know I wouldn't miss this if I could possibly help it! Oh, Wart! I love you so!"

"Would you two like a moment alone?" Ron asked.

"I doubt there will be time for that," the doctor said from the doorway.

After one final check, she concluded she was right: ten centimetres and two minutes.

"Remus needs to change into his gown, doesn't he?" I asked as they began to wheel me out of the room, still clinging to his hand as well as Harry's arm.

"I'm afraid you're only allowed one person in the delivery room, Melinda," the doctor said. "Harry is your coach, isn't he?"

"Remus is the father and Harry is the godfather. I insist that they both be there."

"Best not to argue with her, doctor," Remus interjected. "She's frightfully stubborn."

"All right, under the circumstances," the doctor answered, shrugging.

A nurse bundled Remus off to change, and I was wheeled into the delivery room, with Harry telling me to breathe every step of the way. After another few minutes, Remus entered, dressed identically to Harry. At a time like this, it is amazing the things that go through one's mind. I raised my head as Remus walked in and marvelled at how good he looked in his green hospital gown. My legs up in stirrups and with an audience to boot, which has to be one of the most embarrassing postures a woman can affect, I pushed when the doctor told me and only breathed when she said not to push. With every contraction, I felt as if I were being ripped apart from the inside out.

As I am told women in my position often do, I said the most dreadful things to Remus—things that made Harry blush. I didn't mean any of them, of course, and they both knew that. But that doesn't make me feel any better about it now. Also I begged the doctor to simply "get them out of me," and I feel badly about that, too, although the doctor assured me that was normal as well.

I breathed and pushed for what seemed an interminable amount of time, only to have to breathe and push some more afterward. By the time Remus Junior was born at 7:02 A.M., I felt as if I'd had all I could take, but I had to bear down once again. Thankfully, Romulus didn't take nearly as long, as my birth canal had been thoroughly prepared. He was born nine minutes later.

Remus leant down, removing his mask, and kissed me tenderly, and Harry wiped sweat from my brow. I held both of my babies briefly before they were taken away to the nursery and I was taken back to my room. My husband wanted to stay with me, offering to sleep in the hospital room chair. But I told him to go home, take his anti-anaemia potion, and come back the next day when he would no doubt be feeling stronger.

"I'm a big girl, Remus," I reassured him. "I'll be quite fine until tomorrow. Besides, if I'm not, I'm in a hospital!"

Eventually, the four of us convinced Remus to return home and rest and, when I was finally alone, I fell quickly into an exhausted sleep. I woke around ten to find my four visitors were back, along with many more. Remus' parents, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, Hagrid—who I understand raised more than a few eyebrows among the hospital staff—and some other students from Gryffindor house. My cheering section apparently spent a great deal of the time they were supposed to occupy with sleeping by sending out owls. My bed was also surrounded with flowers and plants, the most charming arrangement of which was brought by Neville Longbottom, Gryffindor's resident Herboligist. The only person I missed seeing was, of course, Professor Snape.

Whilst leaning on Remus for support, I felt strong enough to walk down to the nursery, so our motley crew headed that way. Everyone ooed and ahed over the bundles of joy with which Remus and I had been blessed, and my husband kissed my forehead no less than twenty times during the brief ten minute viewing. I enjoyed the company, but I tired quickly. Before the nurses had a chance, Professor Dumbledore very sensibly suggested our guests should leave and let me rest. Before the headmaster left, however, he handed me a small package and suggested, with the usual twinkle in his eyes, I should open this one when I was alone. He then pecked my cheek before smiling and turning to leave.

I sent Remus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione away for lunch at noon and opened the mysterious package. The neat, methodical handwriting on the enclosed parchment told me immediately who the sender was: Professor Snape.

  
__

Melinda,

I would like to offer my most heartfelt congratulations on the birth of your twin sons. I regret I could not be there to tell you this in person, but I know you understand. Hopefully someday soon I may openly visit and hold them on my knee. Perhaps they will even call me "Uncle Severus." I've always thought I might like that.

In the meantime, please accept this colic potion I've prepared (just in case). It should work much better than the analogous Muggle remedies. I've also enclosed the recipe, which should give you no trouble whatsoever. I'm looking forward to our next "detention." Until then, I remain

Your devoted friend,

Severus

  


I smiled appreciatively and put the letter and the colic potion away before the remainder of the gang returned. The next afternoon, I was discharged. The three Lupin males and I returned home. Over the previous months, Remus had shown himself to be as capable a carpenter and decorator as he was a businessman. When I was at school, he whiled away his time converting our office into a nursery. My husband was more than indispensable. He was a Godsend.

Not only did Remus change diapers, but he also volunteered for the majority of the feedings in the wee hours. And he still had the patience and energy to nurse me through postpartum depression. He was not superhuman, despite being a werewolf. Nevertheless, it seemed like it through the first few months. I think his delirious happiness of having his own family allowed him to tap into reserves of energy he'd been saving up all his life.

At times, I was even jealous of how good Remus was with the twins, or rather how well they behaved for him. They never cried when he held them, although they often did for me, the temperamental twits. Don't get me wrong—I love my children dearly, but they were so much better for their father than for me. The only time they were consistently quiet for me was when they were nursing.

As absolutely potty as we were about Romulus and Remus Junior however, Remus and I decided two children would be enough—at least whilst I was still at school, and we decided I would resume my birth control as soon as the doctor advised. Soon I would be a third year at Hogwarts, and the thought of three or more babies along with homework was not a pleasant prospect.

When term started in September, Professor Snape managed to bully me into a detention within minutes of beginning the first class. I prepared for said detention by bringing photos of the babies, and this quickly became our preferred method of communication. As long as I wasn't scheduled along with another student, which Snape was careful to avoid, we could talk freely.

On more than one occasion, Professor McGonagall expressed concern about my receiving so many detentions. I assured her, however, that I thought Professor Snape only had it in for me or—perhaps because of my consistently competent performance in his class—he was looking for an excuse for help with some of the more disgusting tasks he must regularly perform. I added how I much preferred his requiring me to gut toads or skin newts to his taking points from Gryffindor House. She could not fail to see the wisdom in this, and I persuaded her for the moment to not speak to Snape about my proliferation of detentions.

In the past my conversations with Professor Snape, while not always focusing on light topics, had at least the virtue of being relaxed. But now he was back in the thrall of the Death Eaters, and his role as spy was taking its toll. Even though Snape wasn't especially afraid of my telling Remus the things we discussed any more, he knew he could trust me not to relate the information to anyone. As a result, he confided almost everything to me.

Snape needed a friendly ear and comfort on more than one occasion. And these I attempted to provide the best way I knew how. I worried about his position daily, almost hourly, but he seemed to be holding up exceptionally well under the pressure. I only hoped my counsel and understanding would provide him the strength he needed to carry him through in the following months, as I hoped it would also help Remus.

But what my husband and my dear friend had to do, to endure, in order to fight Voldemort, I will save for another tale. So for now, this is

THE END.

  



End file.
